From The Beginning
by ToiletWater
Summary: We should all know that what ever happens later in life is a result of your beginning. So let's find out- it's only fair, after all, that we get to hear Amber's story from the beginning...
1. Genesis The Prologue

It was raining. Storming, in fact. Lightning flashed like electricity into the hospital room. But the thunder could not be heard over the sounds of labor, the new mother crying out in pain, midwives instructing her to breathe just so, father-to-be holding the camera and encouraging. She was only seven months along, she thought to herself. Exactly 30 weeks and 2 days. In another seven weeks, it would be much safer. But they obviously didn't have that kind of time.

"There's the head!"

The female figure groaned in agony as the rest of the body came out, amidst their yelling. The nurses and midwives gathered around it, whiping it clean of the blood.

"Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Volakis. It's a girl."

They heaved a sigh of relief; she was alive. She couldn't be with them, she had to be rushed to the NIC-U, but she was alive and that was enough for them for now. Though she was barely able to steady her hand, she wrote her daughter's predestined name on the birth certificate; _Amber Martina Volakis._ A couple of nurses and a husband helped the new mother into the shower, and when she fell asleep, she slept like the dead.

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When she woke up, her husband was eating some thing from the hospital that didn't look at all appetizing. Then again, he liked a lot of weird things.

"Nikolai?" she croaked tiredly; "What time is it?"

He finished swallowing his mouthful of what-ever-it-was and looked at the time. "10:30. The nurse just came in and asked if we wanted to see the baby."

"Of course I do." Tina replied, shifting around, trying to get up.

"Wait, Christina," he was the only one who was allowed to call her that; "I'll call for some one."

A couple of workers wheeled them down to NIC-U. Since only one was allowed in at a time, Nikolai decided to let his wife in first. A doctor specializing in the NIC-U instructed her on what to do, but she was hardly paying attention. It seemed like they had so many things hooked up to her- pulse monitors, oxygen measuring systems, breathing support, IV's filled with what ever food they were providing her with.

"Here," he sighed, handing her the small infant. She looked just like a doll. It was hard to imagine such a little thing being alive, much less human.

"Amber," she whispered, playing with the little bits of fuzz sticking out of her head. The baby shifted. Tina had never experienced such an over-whelming feeling of guilt. There was no feeling of awe, no wonder, no hear-clenching warmth or tenderness. She didn't feel any thing that she thought could be described as even mildly 'maternal.' How could this baby be her's? It was the wrong kid. Or she was the wrong mom. Either way, she wished she could just hand it back to wherever it came from. 'She', she insisted to herself. She traced a finger over the little body, humming lightly. But when she started crying, Tina had to give her back to the doctor. She couldn't deal with that, not after 12 hours of labor, pain, and then not even being able to love what had come out. The doctor wheeled her back out to her husband, who began to chat with her unknowingly.

"Her birth weight was 6 pounds, 14 ounces. And she's 13.5 inches long. The nurses say she looks just like a little doll."

Tina nodded absentmindedly. "She does."

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For the next weeks, they were in and out of the hospital. Mostly in. Nikolai kept insisting on seeing the baby, kept insisting on going. Tina never wanted to go, it just didn't feel right- Amber just didn't feel like her kid. A kid, yeah. And yeah, it was sad that she was born early, but it wasn't her responsibility. Unfortunately, the birth certificate said otherwise, and she didn't want her husband to know what was going on. They started giving her breast milk through a tube after 3 weeks, and 2 weeks after that, she was able to eat directly from her mother. Christina also hated breastfeeding, but did it any ways. 3 weeks following that, Amber went home. Tina wanted to ask if they'd keep her a couple of months, but it was ridiculous- so she obviously didn't. She was nervous, though. She was nervous, panicky, and still didn't love the kid the way she knew she should.

After they got her home, she started pumping out her breast milk and feeding it to her from a bottle. Thankfully, her mom came down to help raise the kid. Had she not, Christina Ann Volakis would have been nothing more than a name on a gravestone.


	2. Inner Children

"What's the matter, Nana?" questioned the little doll-like girl; a three-year-old still suffering from illnesses they thought might be from the premature birth. The rather elderly woman at nearly 72 was lying on the bed in the guest room rather stiffly, staring at the ceiling. She turned her gaze to the young girl and shifted around.

"I'm just getting old, little one." she responded, patting the bed next to her. "Come on in, no need to be afraid."

The little girl complied, holding the hard-covered Winnie-the-Pooh book tightly. It was dark in the room, though, and since Nana had just gotten home from the hospital she wasn't going to ask. She offered, though, and Amber laid there and listened to it quietly.

"Does it hurt?" she asked suddenly as the book came to an end. Nana shut it and set it aside, stroking her hair.

"Where do you mean?"

"Any where." she replied, yawning; it was nap time, Nana remembered.

"No, sweetie. I'm not in any pain."

The little girl nodded contently, and 'Nana' watched her drift off to sleep. She was getting old, she realized. Far too old for the care of such a young child. She had come to her daughter's home to provide moral support and a bit of help, but- it seemed- had ended up raising her grandchild. Hell, she had said 'Nana' before she said 'Mama', and even now when she used it didn't seem to know what it meant. Nana had raised her through the teething, the potty training, her first words, her first laugh, every infanthood and toddlerhood first- she had been there for it. And her own mother had been at work, having thrown herself into a career of Newspaper Editing. At least Nikolai spent evenings with the child- most days, Tina wouldn't return until 8:30/9:00 at night. And not that Nana didn't like the girl, or even love her, but she was too old and too weak to be doing what she needed to do. Her heart condition and natural frailties only added to that.

Nana fell asleep, immersed in her thoughts and the sight of her granddaughter's chest rise and fall.

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Amber was up only a small while before Nana, and had just sat there until she woke up. She was hungry, and since both Tina and Nikolai were at work, she had to get out of bed to go make some thing- against medical advice (she was supposed to stay in bed for a couple of days).

"Why doesn't mama like me?" she asked seriously, throwing Nana off-guard. She supposed she had assumed that the girl wouldn't figure it out due to her young age, but the way she asked her question implied that she had been contemplating it for a while. It hurt her to hear such a question, but even so, she had a hard time answering.

"Why do you think she doesn't?"

The little girl shrugged. Nana realized it was kind of unfair to ask a three-year-old to phrase the reasons for her thought into words, but she simply couldn't answer it. Amber was a bright, beautiful, sweet little girl and- what was more- she was Tina's daughter and only child. There was no way she could answer a question like that, and to say 'she does' would not only be lying but invalidating the girl.

"I don't really know how your mom feels, little one, or why." she added, stirring the pot of soup she'd put on and shuffling over to the table where she sat. She blinked, and Nana pulled out a piece of paper and some crayons. "Tic-Tac-Toe, little bird?"

Amber giggled and nodded. Tic-Tac-Toe was their special game, Little Bird (along with variants) was her special name, and red was her special color. Nana handed it to her, and let a three-year-old win at Tic-Tac-Toe until the soup was ready.

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Nikolai played house with his daughter for an hour and a half after he got home. She was the mom, he was the neighbor and- for whatever reason her mind had concocted- he was staying there and helping her raise the five kids she'd had all at once. Nana and Nikolai hoped it wasn't a representation of what she would be when she got older. They put her to bed at 8, and her dad read her a bedtime story and tucked her in.

Nana was in the kitchen, taking a small bottle of Bacardi out drinking right out of it. She was growing tired of trying to talk to Nikolai about his wife, and had decided- finally- to confront her own daughter. She had assumed that Tina would be more receptive to him as her husband, but he was evidently no more than a chicken shit, and it needed to be said. Although it was her own daughter she would be confronting, she was nervous. But not nearly enough so to down the whole bottle on herself- despite its size. She screwed the cap back on and replaced it.

Tina got home at 8:30, and Nana was ready for her when she got there.

"Tina," she hummed coldly; "I have some thing I need to talk to you about. Come out with me onto the porch."

She followed, like a teenager who was out way past her curfew. Her mother sat down in a chair, and grasped at her head like some one would do if they had some form of headache.

"I'm going to have trouble saying this," she muttered, swirling in the swiveling chair. Tina didn't respond verbally, she just watched her mother move about until she finally came out with it. "I've been raising your daughter."

"What…exactly are you saying?"

"Listen to me!" the older of the two snapped; "I'm saying that since the day I got here- the day you brought your little girl home from the hospital- I've been the one taking care of her. You went right back to work, and so did Nikolai."

"Well, I need to work." she hissed arrogantly; "I do have a child to take care of!"

"Until five, six maybe. I know your work hours, Christina. But for the last three years, you've been at work until 8:30 or 9:00 almost every single day."

"Oh, so I stay late at work this one time—"

"Don't start that with me, young lady! Call me a liar, and I'll tell you what- I have the phone messages to prove how late you've been out. Any ways, I didn't bring you out here to fight- I brought you out here so you would tell me what your problem could possibly be with that child."

"I don't have a problem; I spend as much time with her as I can…"

"It's okay, I'll wait."

Tina moved around uncomfortably. The titled Nana just sat and watched for what seemed like hours until her daughter finally cracked.

"I don't love her." she growled, irritated. Things had been going just fine in her opinion, why couldn't her mom just leave it be? "There, happy?"

"Nonsense, how can you not love your own child? Or have you even tried to bond with her since the first day you saw her?"

"Not really…" Tina's face fell, and she looked dreadfully ashamed. Before she could continue, Nana cut her off.

"How can you expect to love some one you hardly even know?!" the elderly woman snapped, loud and angry. Here, her daughter had been neglecting her granddaughter over a myth. "You…you didn't even try to bond with her! Is that the only excuse you have?!"

"I didn't feel any thing when I picked her up- okay?! I was scared!"

"Oh, that's great- abandon your child because you're afraid. Can you imagine how that would feel? Just today she asked me why you don't like her!"

"Oh yeah? And what did you say?"

"I told her I don't know what your problem is, and I am telling you now that you had better get over it if you want to keep your husband and your family together. I can't believe you never even tried. I should disown you!"

And there, on the stairs, stood a three-year-old girl who could hear every thing that was being said.

All she had done was come down for a drink of water.

Chilled with sadness and unable to continue down the stairs, she slowly crept back up and tucked herself into bed.

They say that every one has "inner children", or parts of them that never grew up.

The little girl who lay in bed and cried herself to sleep that night was one of them.


	3. Prince Charming

A/N: I just realized I didn't provide a disclaimer in any of the first two chapters.

Disclaimer: House MD does not belong to me, and I am not affiliated with the company in any way. If I was…well. Let's say we'd all be scarred for life.

A/N: Well, I hope you all are enjoying the story! I'd really like to see some reviews. If you have any ideas that you would like to see incorporated, let me know and I'll see what I can do. Constructive criticism would be lovely, and so would just a nice review telling me what you think. And just to let you know, Nikolai is Russian, as 'Volakis' just struck me as being so.

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Amber's fifth birthday was the first time her mom had been home for the party. Nana had insisted, especially since she'd been passing out a lot. Her condition was worsening. It was a small party, with maybe four other kids from the neighborhood that she had been playing with. She had been sick most of her life, and since school would be starting next September (she was born in November, so she couldn't get in until the following year), her parents were worried about sending her to school. They party passed as expected, however, and every one was gone by 3.

Tina cleaned up the messes left by the four other five-year-olds in silence, letting Amber sit on the couch and flip through her new book ("The Bears up Stairs" or some thing). "Nana" had gone to bed; Tina couldn't help thinking that her mother was deteriorating. "Amber," she called, to which the little girl got up off the couch and sat her book down. "did you have a nice party?"

"Yeah." she replied, tired out. Her mother sighed.

"Well, you have one more present to get. Do you want to get it now, or wait until tomorrow?"

Of course, being five, excitement rode over her. "Yeah, I wan' it." There was a pause; "What is it, mommy?"

"You'll have to see. Come on." she replied, taking the hand and leading her daughter to the car.

It took ten minutes at Tina's speed to make it to the animal shelter, where they had prepared just to take an animal and leave all house checks were done, she would just have to fill out some paperwork…

"The animal shelter?" hope and excitement could be heard in her voice.

"Yep."

A kennel manager assisted them to the dog kennels, holding a dog leash. The five-year-old looked around, stopping at every cage, making her comment about them like most children would. Several times around they went, until she finally settled at one.

"Can I see him first?" she asked the kennel manager, who nodded and showed her the least.

"You sure can. That's why I brought this."

He opened the kennel and the dog came towards him, letting him leash him. The other dogs made a fuss- clawing their doors and howling and what ever else they could do to make noise. Tina inspected the ID card for a moment, despite the fact that it was hard to see and the animal sounds were distracting. An American Stafford Terrier mix named Crisco.

"We can change the name, right?"

"Of course."

He took the dog and girl out into the back, where they got a good view of him; pure, solid white with a sort of striped brindle markings, one over half of his face and one large one towards the posterior end. He jumped around a bit and played with her, and Tina knew her daughter was sold on him. He sat near her and they were almost the same height- not because he was large, but because she was still so small. She dove into a hug.

"Looks like she's rather fond of him, and he likes her, too." noted the kennel worker, chuckling lightly.

"Good boy, Princey." cooed the five-year-old as he snuggled her, and licked her hand as she reached up to pet him.

"Princey? You've named him already?" Tina questioned casually.

"Uh-huh. His name's Prince Charming- like in the fairytales and Cinderella." –of course, Cinderella was a completely different category to Amber. "Prince for short, right?" she looked at the dog, who in turn licked her face- causing a giggle.

Half an hour of paperwork later, they were taking the dog home. The little girl eagerly showed off her new pet, especially to Nana- who smiled and petted him on the bed when he came up next to her.

"He's a good boy," she grinned confidently; "Daddy's gonna show me how to teach him to do tricks."

Nana smiled; "I had a dog when I was your age, too. His name was Fido. My older brother named him."

Amber had to strain to hear her- her voice was getting weaker. Usually that was a sign that she should leave. She kissed her supposed 'Nana' on the cheek and walked out of the room, Prince Charming following behind.

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They rushed Nana to the hospital the next morning.

Her heart had stopped.

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A/N: I hope this was okay, I'm not very good with this type of transition.


	4. Nana can't die

A/N: Yes, this will be the only time two chapters are written within a couple of days of each other in fanfic time. I thought this would be important. Also, remember that it's her grandmother on her mom's side, so they wouldn't have the same last name after Tina got married.

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"Victoria Parker?" inquired the doctor upon stepping into the room. The elderly woman looked up at him dimly.

"Yes?" she hissed, her voice barely above a whisper. Amber held her hand, glancing with intimidation at the doctor every-so-often. Nana squeezed her hand gently to reassure her.

"You went into cardiac arrest due to a heart attack. We had to shock your heart, so there should be some pain." he flipped through some papers. "And it says here you have Coronary Heart Disease."

"Yep."

"And how was that diagnosed?"

"I had a heart attack six years ago…that was they reason they determined why."

"It looks like they put a pacemaker in. We can't do much as far as operating, since that's already been done. I regret to inform you that there's not much we can do to guarantee your health."

Tina immediately began sobbing, and Nikolai put an arm around her. Amber stood, unwavering, looking at her grandma. Even if she could fully comprehend what was being said, she wouldn't believe it. Didn't the doctor know this was Nana, and that Nana's don't die?

"I'll do whatever I can do ease the transition." added the doctor with sympathy. "Mrs. Parker, do you have your legal preparations?"

"Yes, of course."

More boring doctor talk Amber couldn't understand passed, and finally the doctor left. She didn't understand what was going on, not completely, but she was confident. Nana would always be there. She climbed up onto the hospital bed, into the empty spot.

"Does your chest hurt?"

"A little." Amber smiled as Nana put her hand on top of her head.

Tina got herself together. "Maybe we should go."

Nana nodded and Amber got down.

"I don't wan'na go, I wan'na stay here with Nana."

"You can come back tomorrow." assured Nikolai. "Come on, or Princey will get lonely."

She nodded, turning back to Nana. "I love you, Nana."

"I love you, too, Little Bird." she replied, grabbing the little girl's hand as she smiled.

"See you tomorrow."

"Goodnight."

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Victoria Parker died that night. The funeral was held on November 12'th, after she was cremated on November 8'th. Amber couldn't understand it completely, not after having just turned 5. She wasn't able to fully comprehend it. But every one was crying, and she had to wear black.

"Why can't I see Nana any more?" she asked, for the hundred-thousandth time.

"I can't explain it, Amber." Nikolai finally said. "No one can any more. Okay? I can't answer the question if I don't know the answer."

She shrugged, feeling a few tears slip about the fact that she couldn't see Nana any more.

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For days, she wondered if it might be because Nana was mad at her for some thing. She did what ever she could around the house- folded dish towels, fed, watered and walked (kind of) Prince Charming, and put away her toys when she took them out. Eventually, she gave up. Maybe Nana just couldn't come back, although she couldn't for the life of her figure out why.

It was late on a Sunday night when she was jolted awake. Thunder had shaken her from her nightmare. For a minute, she laid there, tears filtering in from behind her eyes, trembling from fear. She had to force herself to think clearly. Nana had told her that when some thing bothers you, you have to do some thing about it or it'll keep bothering you. Like when she got the thorn in her finger- if she just stood there and cried, it would stay there and it would hurt more; but if she got up and did some thing about it, it would go away and her finger would stop hurting. So what did she usually do when she had a bad dream?- she went into Nana's room and laid down on her bed.

She pulled herself out of the bed, heart fluttering. She slowly edged into Nana's room and lay down on her big "queen-sized" bed. The sheets were cool and they still smelled like Nana. It almost felt like she was there, but some thing was missing; the figure next to her was empty. Suddenly, the jingling of a collar was heard and Prince Charming was up on the bed with her. Amber wrapped her arms around him and relaxed into an uneventful sleep.

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A/N: Okay, so this chapter is a bit shorter in comparison to the others. Don't worry, they'll get long again. This is her first step into inhuman independence; whereas most children would have run to their mothers, she ran to an empty room. So! I hope you enjoy this chapter, as tragic as the event is, and please send me a review? Thanks~


	5. October in New York

7:30. Only another half an hour, Amber realized, and she should be able to leave. If there was any thing she hated, it was taking care of kids, but babysitting provided a dual function; got her away from home, and she got money out of it. $15.00 in one night wasn't bad for a 12-year-old. She finished up the dishes right in time to hear the six-year-old call for her from the bathroom. Thank god it was her bedtime- Amber didn't know if she could take too much more. She stepped into the nearly flooded bathroom and fixed the little girl's nightgown.

"Thanks." she muttered tiredly, yawning. It was one of those rare times she didn't protest it when Amber got the toothbrush and toothpaste for her and told her to brush her teeth. She got the bathroom dried up, then blow-dried the little girl's hair. 7:40. Only 20 more minutes.

"Come on, Lizzie." she instructed, and the six-year-old grabbed her hand and she led her to the bedroom, where she situated herself on the bed for a bedtime story. Amber grabbed her favorite Clifford book and read it with as much enthusiasm as she could feign with out going overboard. The girl laid there patiently, staring at her through her massive eyes.

It was almost a creepy feeling, to be stared at like that. Another reason Amber seriously hated doing this; little kids could find every way possible to freak her out- snakes, spiders, pants, snot, spit, and god knows you don't want to know what else. She sat the hard-covered book aside and stood, mumbling an obligatory 'good night.' Usually, Elizabeth would have been well on her way to sleep by now- but despite her previous fatigue, she seemed more awake. She jerked to a stop when she felt the hand grab her.

"Will you sing me a lullaby?" she asked, so innocently it was painful to hear. Painful, and perhaps a little angering. But Amber also felt a pang of sympathy, seeing her own eyes in the girl's, maybe all the times she had asked her mother to sing her to sleep or read her a bedtime story, and the answer was always "Mommy's too tired." And in that moment of sympathy, she agreed- nodding and resuming her seat.

She paused and took a breath. Singing had never been a particularly strong suit. And not to mention, the only song she had in mind was a little up-beat. But, well, maybe she could try to change it some how?

"_Enjoy yourself…_

_It's later than you think._

_Enjoy yourself…_

_While you're still in the pink…_

_The years go by_

_As quickly as you wink…_

_Enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself,_

_It's later than you think…" _

It came out as a twisted, eerie form of the original fast-paced song, but the young girl didn't seem bothered- she was more concerned with fighting off the sleep that was coming upon her. There was a break of just humming before she seemed well enough on her way to sleep before Amber got up and left.

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The parents were ten minutes late, but it wasn't to be expected that any one was exactly on time. Their older son Kyle had fallen asleep on the couch after a taxing field trip that day, and Amber got out as quickly as possible. It was dark already, one of the downsides to October in New York. It was also kind of cold, but it was one of those things you adapted to wearing a sweater to. There was a rustling sound, and she panicked for a moment- until she realized it was just her friend, standing there in his usual get-up- a gray hoodie with a logo she couldn't make out and jeans worn far too low below his boxers.

"Hey, Mitch." she breathed, smiling at him crookedly, as much as she could muster. Her parents would never approve of her being his friend- he was black, he was poor, he lived in the more ghetto-area…and was every thing her parents would disapprove of. But he was her friend, and he walked her home at night; even though she only lived down the street from the Bakerson's, it was nerve-wracking to walk home alone in New York, especially in the dark.

"How's my girl?" he asked, his voice wavering on a soprano octave from- she assumed- his last intake of marijuana. His voice was stereotypically black, his accent, and his method of speech- there was no way to deny it, even if he wasn't physically. "Gettin' me some cash?"

"'Course." she giggled, teasing. Mitch was nothing like her biological brother at home, and her brother would probably never be any thing like him. But he was more like her brother than Nicholas- the reason she dreaded going home. She tried not to think about it, and Mitch crossed over the driveway.

"Where we headed?"

"Just home. I probably have stuff to do."

"Oh." Mitch sounded disappointed, and Amber sighed inwardly. He was great to hang out with, but it was always such a pain in the neck for her to meet with him with out worrying her parents would find out. It was always worth it, though- he'd taught her how to pick pockets, how to steal keys with out them jingling, how to take things from stores with out being caught on security cameras, and how to rig certain car washes for what he called 'free rides.' Unfortunately, the last trick wasn't universal- and she probably wouldn't ever be a thief- but it was still cool to know.

"Stop one, the Vulcan's Nest." he announced, stepping away. He had always insisted on calling it the Vulcan's Nest, because 'Volakis' sounded like 'Vulcan' to him and Nest was a reference for home. Amber grinned slightly and sighed, as much as she was dreading what awaited her, and hugged her friend good-bye. He left promptly, not wanting to get her into trouble.

She got in, and before her was a scene that made her blood boil beneath her skin. There was no screaming, no anger, no abuse, no- in fact, it was quite the opposite. It was 8:00pm, and her mother was home, 2-year-old Nicholas walking around. She cooed at him, talked to him, read stories to him, and- what was worse- sang to him.

"Hi!" he said, innocently excitedly to see his older sister. He then proceeded to babble some thing about the policeman and a kitty, half incoherent while he seemed to forget what he was saying.

"Hi, Nikki." she replied, talking as he babbled. Her dad was relaxed in the recliner chair with a can of beer she assumed was empty, or he'd be drinking it. She let her backpack down and opened it, pulling out her homework.

"Whaddoya got?" her dad inquired honestly. Amber sighed and looked at it.

"Couple of math papers, some thing in geography, and I have to start a history essay." she replied softly, clawing back through the backpack to find her books. "I don't think I'll need help with any thing." she added, answering the question that was always next, and hauling the stack of books and papers up into her room to complete.

She despised being downstairs with her family. She couldn't stand to see how her parents treated Nicholas like he had done some great thing already in his life, yet wouldn't let her perform at the sixth grade drama unless she had a lead part (she had convinced them by telling them she'd fail some thing if she didn't go, but the concept still applies- right?). Her mom hadn't minded, but her dad had been kind of upset when she got a B in Language.

At 12, she already had considered her major alternative; suicide. She had contemplated forms, even looked up methods, but…it was stupid. She could make it through another six years, and then do what she wanted- even if she didn't know what that was yet. She set her finished projects aside, and over-heard her parents arguing downstairs.

"I don't want Anya and Bruce coming over! They'll eat us out of house and home!"

"She's my sister!"

"I don't care! They're disgusting."

"They're family."

"They're huge, smelly, rude…" she trailed off, just like always when they were talking about Uncle Bruce and Aunt Anya. The fight would last another 20 minutes before her mom caved. She sighed, turned on her fan and turned off her light. She wasn't tired, but she didn't feel like going downstairs, so she changed into her pajamas and got into bed and just laid there, listening to the sounds of her parents arguing downstairs.


	6. Cigarette on my Teeth

She wished she could sleep. It was after midnight, and she had to be up to get ready for school in six hours. Her alarm flared the time in her face angrily, as if demanding she rest, but she couldn't. She wouldn't ever admit it to any one, but she was nervous. Then again, how could you blame her? She was about to become a 12 (soon to be 13)-year-old Freshman, after being promoted from 8'th grade. She had already decided the classes she was going to take, including her electives, but there was still the fear of not being ready, of starting some thing new, and- what was worse- failing.

Amber tried to tell herself that if she failed, it would be okay. That she just wasn't ready for it; she would have a chance to do eighth grade before starting ninth. But it didn't help her much. She groaned; it was only getting later.

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She didn't know when she fell asleep, but she must have. She could have killed the alarm when it went off, but she forced herself out of bed any ways. School was supposed to start at 8:00 (although considering that it was the first day, things would probably run late), and of course she needed to get ready. Things would get easier, Amber told herself, once she was used to it. She carried on like she usually did during the school year; headed down the stairs, showered, blow-dried her hair, sprayed on the deodorant, put clothes on…

"Good morning, Amber." her father mumbled to her at the breakfast table.

"Mornin." she replied, toasting a pop-tart. As usual, her mom grabbed one half of it for her brother. It didn't bother her; she had little of a morning appetite any ways.

"Are you almost ready?" her mom questioned.

Amber sighed- she was getting so sick of hearing that question. "Kind of…" she responded, checking the time as she swallowed the last bite. 7:02. They didn't have to leave for another 40 minutes, it wasn't like she was on some really tight schedule- she knew what she was doing. Yes, indeed, she had grown angrier at her mother over the years, bit by bit.

"Are you still wearing that men's deodorant?"

She walked into the bathroom, pretending not to hear. She had better things to do than fight with her mom on the first day of highschool, and- deodorant or not- she still looked like a girl. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't look like a guy, any ways. And she had tried, but it didn't really seem to help whatever she had been hoping it would help- 7:00am really is not the time for psycho-analysis. She brushed her hair, brushed her teeth, and applied make-up.

"Did you hear me?" her mom demanded, opening the door.

"Huh? Hear you what?" among some of the other things she'd become up to now, a good actress was definitely one of them. It was too bad her dad wouldn't let her join the drama club, she would have loved to act, but he insisted that it was frivolous and…what ever else he had said, she couldn't be expected to remember his exact words.

"I asked if you're still wearing that deodorant. People are going to think you're a lesbian."

"Then people think too much." She muttered, leaving the room and grabbing her backpack out of the closet. Every thing was all set, she just needed to add a few things- hair ties, toothbrush, toothpaste, and…tampons, just to be safe.

"They're high-schoolers, it's all they're going to be thinking about."

"Why should they be any different from the rest of the population?" she slung her backpack over her shoulder. "Any ways, I'm ready."

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School started out as well as it could- after all, it was school. Amber promised herself she wasn't going to be afraid of them, that she wouldn't change- if there were problems, she'd tackle them head-on like she always had. It was after lunch when things started to go down; she'd sneaked into the ladies room with her toothbrush, and a couple of girls had caught her in the act of forcing food from her system. They referred her to the guidance counselor- the last place she wanted to be, for the last reason. And on the first day! And, if that wasn't bad, the guidance counselor sort of freaked her out.

She sighed and endured it, convincing him that it was the first time she'd tried it and that she wouldn't be doing it again. He suggested that she keep coming back, but left it up to her; and there was no way she was going to. That wasn't the way she wanted to be looked at, the self-conscious early Freshman suffering from depression. People would be less likely to respect her if that was how they viewed her, and she not only wanted but deserved respect. She'd gotten into this school a year before she was supposed to because she'd earned it, not because some school board member pitied her, or loved her- for that matter. Still, she'd have to come up with a new method of making sure the weight stayed off. Diet pills, maybe? Well, she decided, she'd contemplate that later.

All in all, school had been a drag, but it hadn't totally failed. Since it was the first day, the homework was pretty light, so she managed to pick up a $10.00 babysitting job at the end of school. Not that she really wanted to- she was tired, and sick of guys hitting on her, but she didn't really want to go home, either.

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-Four weeks later-

Anthony was her first, and she said that with out an ounce of wistfulness, or caring, or any mild tenderness. That was because, well, there hadn't been. Anthony was a Senior with a reputation as the school's man-whore, and- well- Amber needed some experience in the department. It was a favor, a mere exchanging of abilities. He'd shown her how to please a man, how to be dominant, how to be submissive- not that she would ever be submissive. People would respect her, she would not be begging any one.

The blonde was caught off-guard when she found herself against the wall, the offending figure being that of a female. She noted that the girl was…kind of scary, dressed in a black shirt decorated with a skull and cross-bones, a collar with spikes, black baggy pants with at least a hundred pockets and chains coming out of every one. The zipper gleamed gold, not a regular silver, and the lining of the pockets was crimson. The make-up was dark, as well, with so much black around her eyes that she could have put burnt charcoal up to them and just cleaned out a circular area inside, and the scent of cigarette smoke nearly choked her. And yet, there was some thing strangely attractive about her, alluring; perhaps because she seemed so unafraid…Amber was fixated on her glance- unwavering, still.

"Hey," she muttered, her voice a little deeper than most females, but it was to be expected. "Volakis, right?" she drew away, so that they were standing close enough for the blonde to be trapped, but she could breathe. "Amber Volakis?"

"I'm flattered." she responded, refusing to let herself falter by being caught off-guard. "And you are?"

"Remy." there was a pause. Amber breathed deeply, reeling from the shock of what ever had just happened. "I hear you're a whore."

"Not in those exact words, I hope." she used her hands to place stray hairs back behind her ears.

"Not exactly." Remy smirked, pocketing her hands. "But I found out why you did it. They say you gave him sex in exchange for experience."

"They talk too much."

"True. But I thought I could give you just as much."

_Oh, god, she's asking for sex. _Amber's eye twitched involuntarily.

"Pleasing a woman, can be just as much good to you as a man."

"You're a lesbian...?"

"Not sure yet."

"I…don't think so." she replied, hoping not to get punched. "Maybe, but, I don't think so."

Lesbianism was one of the last ways to obtain what she wanted.

The girl's face didn't change, she simply backed off further to allow more room. "You're the 12-year-old, right?"

"I'll be 13 in a few weeks."

"Yeah," she smirked, eyes gleaming. "That's what I thought."

And she walked away before Amber could ask what that meant.


	7. You Know What They Say

_You know that 'Remy' chick? _

_I heard she's a lesbian._

_Really? I heard she's actually a guy._

_I heard she doesn't consider herself a girl._

_That's bizarre._

_You know they catch her smoking outside all the time?_

_That's gross._

_Not really. _

_I heard she actually hates pussy._

_Then how is she a lesbian?_

_Why is she here, any ways?_

Amber had never cared much for gossip, but she had been over-hearing a lot of it. Normally, she would just tune it out- but it was interesting to hear peoples' thoughts on the girl trying to get into her pants. It was only confirmation that she was the last person she was going to get near. Speaking of which, guys had been coming at her like crazy, too. Girlfriend's not putting out, they think she's hot, or…whatever. She definitely should have considered the idea that sleeping with the class whore would usually label you as a whore, too.

Friday came too slowly. Amber's 13'th birthday was just two days away now, but she wasn't looking forward to any thing. Her only real friend was Mitch, and there were few people she associated with in school- mostly because she was so busy. Taking AP and Honors classes in school did that to you, as did beginning to take college courses in highschool, not to mention the business club that- as much as it bored her, consumed a good deal of her time. Not that there were many other high schoolers she really wanted to associate with- too much drama, in her opinion.

Relieved that it was finally the end of the week, Amber shut her locker softly and locked it- only keeping what she needed. It had gotten a bit messy since the first of school, she noted- she would have to reorganize it some time soon. She felt a hand grasp her arm, and proceeded- unbothered. She was growing used to- if not tired of- it.

"Hey," came the familiar voice and scent of cigarette smoke. Amber figured, from the strength of it, that she had just put out her last.

"I assume you have boundary problems at home." she murmured coolly- maybe a little coldly. "Let me repeat myself…" she stood, removing the offending hand. "I'm not interested."

"You know," the other female continued, unhindered; "they say you won't do it because you're afraid you won't be respected."

"Who are 'they' and when did they say this?"

"Me, basically." She smirked, leaning against the locker. "I am 'they'. And I say it all the time, if you would listen."

"Every one else says you hate pussy. If I don't care for their gossip, why should I care for yours?"

"That's almost a compelling argument."

"Almost?"

"If you didn't care, you wouldn't know what they say."

Amber smirked and tucked her hair behind her ears. "How much longer before this turns into begging?"

"Why, do you want me to beg?"

"It would be amusing."

You know, if you were good enough at it, you could do it with out getting caught."

The preteen stopped, eyeing Remy with a crooked, some-what confused smile. "You're challenging me?"

She nodded shamelessly.

"Of all the girls in the school," Amber went on, fuming somewhat; "you're coming after me. There are so many other- even Freshman- girls here that are already lesbians, or confused, or bisexual, or whatever. It takes more than one person, any ways."

"Really? You're hell-bent on being straight, but you've only done it with Anthony."

Amber smirked again, softly chuckling. "That you know of."

"Oh? Like who?"

"Jesse, Andy, and Vinny."

"Anthony, Jesse, Andy, and Vinny. Am I the only one noticing a pattern? Remy would sound lovely there, at the end of your list…"

"So would Davey."

"Oh, you're after him now?"

"He just got a car from his dad. It could be beneficial for him to owe me a favor, and besides, I like sex."

"You can't know what you are until you're for sure what you aren't."

"Maybe not, but I can know what I want to fuck with out fucking it. Now please, leave me alone? It's been three weeks, and I don't want things to get physical."

Remy just smirked and started to laugh. Amber sighed, thoroughly frustrated with her, and left- having multiple things to do, despite the weekend.

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Amber barely managed to endure what was happening at home. Her mother wouldn't quit rambling on about how her "little girl was growing up" and how she was "getting to be so grown up" and about how "smart" she was. _Please_, she rolled her eyes- trying to focus on her homework. Her mom bitched at her all through the year, was never satisfied with any thing, and when she wasn't bitching and complaining- would rather spend time playing, cooing, cuddling, singing, and whatever else with Nicholas. _Now she's rambling about how old I'm getting? She probably can't wait to get me out of the house._

This was one of those times she just wanted to drop every thing, crawl into bed and do nothing. She couldn't, she had too much homework to get done, and she would only lay in anger with it hanging over her head. But she just wanted every thing to leave her alone, for every giggle emitted from her brother to mute until she could handle it. Damn, she couldn't focus like this! Annoyed, she hacked her pen down at the table that she wrote at in her room, and went to the bathroom located upstairs. Her diet pills were downstairs, in an otherwise empty bottle of Aspirin, hidden behind the tampons in the cabinet below the sink…but there were plenty of toothbrushes here. She grabbed one, and did what she had to do- unsure of doing any thing else.

Her stomach tightened and unwound, food plowed through her throat, and after a few minutes, she felt clear headed. She could breathe. Amber flushed the toilet, cleaned off the end of the toothbrush, and used another one to brush her teeth. Then, she got back to her homework, telling herself that would be the last time. She really should find other methods of managing stress.

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Sunday went all right; the only difference was another year. Nothing exciting or special, just that she managed to sneak out and see Mitch. It had been a while, and the way she had to keep sneaking around sounded like a love story, but she had no stronger feelings towards him than friendship. He smoked his marijuana most of the time and told her about his new girlfriend being a Mexican, and she told him about getting hit on by a chick- to which he laughed.

"Yeah, the day my girl sleeps with a chick 'll be the day I give every ounce of weed back to my dealer!"

But Monday still came too quickly. Remy tracked her down in the hall first thing in the morning, but instead of grabbing her arm as usual, grabbed her hand. Amber jerked and paused, then stopped altogether.

"Why are you holding my hand?" she groaned, growing even more annoyed by the second.

"I figured we should get a bit more personal as the relationship progresses."

Keeping her composure, albeit barely, Amber pulled her hand away. "What do you want?" she snapped, continuing to walk. "I have to get to my first period."

"Look at me."

The blonde blew hot air, but complied. "What? Get on with it."

"Happy Birthday."

She was taken aback, but at that just sighed and preceded to walk. "That was it? That was all you had to tell me?"

"Yeah."

Amber opened her locker, a bit more roughly than her usual composed self would, and pulled out the book for her German 1 class. "Look, I don't know what else to do. I have first period in less than two minutes, and you have been stalking me for weeks. All I know is that I don't really care about you, your sexuality, your gender, or any thing else that has to do with you. So leave me alone." she added her last statement with a sharp glare and a cold tone. At that, she tucked the book under her arm, shut her locker, and got to class.

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The girl was there again after school, waiting around outside. Amber pretended not to notice, but as she rounded the corner to get to the bus stop, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Determined that this would be the end of it, the new teen turned, grabbed the offending hand, and slapped her face with a free palm.

"I warned you, damn it!" she hissed, glaring intently. "Stop flirting with me, stop coming after me, stop what ever it is you're doing! See the guidance counselor; get a therapist- a social worker, a psychiatrist, a hooker if you have to- JUST. LEAVE. ME. ALONE!" she hacked the hand down, and the offending figure reached up to gently touch the place she'd slapped so hard.

"I guess they were right about you." she murmured, looking sadder than Amber had even seen her before. She swallowed the pangs of pity and guilt rising in her. "You really can't have all this school and a relationship at the same time." then, she looked up- directly at Amber. There was a swollen red mark where she had plowed her hand in. "Not even a friendship."

"Like hell."

Then, Remy did some thing she had never expected her to do. Sure, she had done a load of inappropriate things, said some crazy stuff, but she never seemed like the type to just grab her and kiss her. Or maybe she had, but she just figured it wouldn't happen. Amber slapped her again, on the other side of her face, and this time she didn't seem to care as much. That was just as good, because Amber didn't care.

"I have a bus to catch."

The other girl didn't oppose, just simply nodded and waved a simple goodbye.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Word about the kiss had gotten around, but no so much the slap. Amber and Remy, coincidentally, had gym together and- before you knew it, the guys had dared her to go through the girl's backpack. She complied, hoping it would put an end to the lesbian romance rumor going around (although there were several other, better one's brewing- like one about a Sophomore going after a married man, who was raped, and a couple of people who were clinically diagnosed with eating disorders). Not surprisingly, the backpack was black, and the front had a few dozen buttons with quotes on them.

Amber unzipped it, and wasn't surprised to see an array of things. A rainbow bracelet (surprising how she owned any thing with color), a chain dog collar, an electric collar (creepy), cigarettes, lighters, ashes, butts…nothing interesting. Oh, hey, a book? She studied? The blonde shook her head of the thoughts. And then she saw it.

Flesh colored, sticking up out of the pile of what seemed to be never-ending black cloth. She grabbed it, and pulled it out, then just…stared at it for a moment.

_She cut some one's penis off?_

She tried not to look at the object frantically, tried desperately not to freak out.

"Hey, Amber? You better come out before the coach get's mad." It was Davey. She sighed and took the disembodied body part towards him.

"It looks…like she cut some one's…"

"Oh, my—t-take it back!" he was thoroughly disgusted that was plain to see, and Amber couldn't say she blamed him. She ran it back and placed it back into her backpack.

Davey groaned. "Oh, wow. That's freaky."

And, like most high schoolers, he just couldn't keep that information to himself.


	8. A Carnal Dance

A/N: Just to let you know, yes, I realize the song I used in this wasn't released until just last year. However, because it fit, I thought I'd use it. Enjoy!

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It wasn't look before the dismembered penis story had reached every corner of the school. Like a virus, it kept coming back in different strains, making it more powerful than the last time. Having experienced it first hand, Amber was not interested in the gossip. However, now she was interested in the girl they were gossiping about. At the end of her thought process, of course, was respect.

In her mind, Remy had demanded some thing of some male individual, and he refused to do so. Whether what she demanded was reasonable or not, she didn't know nor care. What she cared about was that she had done what she wanted, or perhaps needed, to do to get what she wanted- or punish some one for not delivering. Either way, that sort of person may be beneficial to get near, to take some of the attitude tendencies for her own. To be rubbed off on, so to speak.

By now, it was the Friday following the incident- not that very same week, the week after. And, for whatever reason, Remy now seemed content to leave her alone. Amber considered that it was only after she had been slapped that she got the message. But, that now would complicate things for her. Thankfully, the girl had been sent to detention- for loitering the hallways during class time (and, of all the things she could get in trouble for, that was the one they actually punished her for?). Thankfully- because she had decided that she could get a favor from the situation.

She knocked on the door and leant in. "Sorry to interrupt." she said, noting that she hadn't seen the teacher before. "But I need to talk to Remy Hadley."

The mentioned girl looked up from the work the teacher had her doing, and quirked a brow- an expression of 'How do you know who I am?'. Of course, the teacher was skeptical- but before he could say anything, Amber spoke again.

"It's important, her dad just called me so I could tell her."

Silenced by the mention of her dad, the teacher nodded to her, indicating that she was free to go. She scurried out and just stood there a moment, looking at the blonde, before she spoke.

"Why did you do that?"

Amber, of course- being quite a bit shorter than her, had to stand on her tip-toes and pull the girl's face down to meet her own. "Because," she whispered, leaning in closer so their lips hovered; "now you owe me a favor." And the girl who had resisted now complied- no, now took control- and kissed the much taller female up against the wall.

"Meet me at my dad's?" Remy suggested, unfussed- enjoying it, actually. She scrawled the address and phone number over Amber's palm.

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Amber met her at her father's house at 7:00pm that night, managing to escape the house by simply telling her mom she was going to go spend time with her friends. Please. If her mom didn't notice her complete lack of friends by now, she never would. Remy lead her to the bedroom, still lit but just faintly by the dimming sky. It was dark, and the scent of cigarette smoke seemed as though it had been there a while. The bed, which- Amber was surprised to find- was a futon, was poorly made with a black comforter and bed sheets. The pillows were an array of colors she couldn't make out, flopped against the side of the bed by the wall.

The taller female, obviously intending to lead, bent and took the far shorter girl's mouth. The blonde, however- having no intention of being dominated, quickly switched the position by grabbing the other female's wrists. It soon, but slowly, turned into a dance. The said dance lasted for hours, crashing, rocking, moving, breathing and beating in rhythm. Even the walls seemed to develop a pulse, through the darkness of the room as the sun left them. Waves of pleasure pulsed through them every so often, changing as it went, depending on the method and circumstance- but despite Remy's attempts at persuasion, Amber could not be moved from her Alpha position. A heat and a scent rose, hypnotizing them, forcing them to continue the dance- their carnal dance of pleasure.

Time passed, eventually leaving them both breathless and aching from over-use. It was the final time; they both decided mentally, that they could continue this. They neared their ends, and there was a pause- Remy once again fighting for the time, once again losing. A zipper opened, stopping it once more, and a familiar sensation filled Amber's core. She arched, straining her neck up, feeling the other girl's smirk.

"By the way, Amber," she hissed, bucking herself as a final release came from another touch; "It's called a dildo."

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Days passed after that. The blonde was embarrassed about her former assumption, but her confusion over Remy's sudden lack of interest in her took precedence in her mind. She was no longer pursuing her, didn't even come near her any more. And, Amber had to admit- she was good in bed. It could, in a sense, be beneficial. And she enjoyed it, which made it all the better.

Curious, she finally approached the other girl after school at the bus stop. "Hey," she said, feeling odd that the tables were turned. "why don't you want any thing to do with me any more?"

An apathetic, maybe some-what arrogant look was glanced down towards her. "Because," she replied, shifting her backpack around. "I got what a wanted."

Amber was struck with shock. Up until now, she had assumed that this girl had feelings for her. But now, what was this? She had pursued her relentlessly, for one simple night? This girl had no bias, no common sense- no filter! Now, not only was Amber frustrated, but she was angry. Not that that was any different, she was angry often. But why..? And what do you say to that?

"I don't care," the other girl proceeded; "for re-runs on television, why would I care for them in bed?"

"Then we won't do it in bed." the words were out before she knew quite what she was saying. The taller girl smirked, albeit in a rather confused manner.

And, before either of them could process it, they were making out under the bleachers.

"Why do you have to be so domineering?" the taller squirmed, Amber pulling the backpack.

"We can't go for as long today, but I needed to see some one any ways." she mused, not responding to the question. "I'll tell my parents I stayed late to get some help." and, at that, all of their cares were released.

"Fine, don't answer the question."

"I like top." she purred, half giggling. "Now, quiet, so we can do this."

It was short, sweet, and satisfying- despite the clumsiness of being in a new place, and only having a short time. Amber had decided to begin experimenting with the things in her backpack, like the egg vibrator, for one. It was educational, too.

The school was absolutely silent when they left. Remy's clothes had mud on them, but it wasn't too noticeable.

"I'll keep going with you," she promised; "and I swear, I'll top you by the end of the year."

"I doubt it." Amber smirked, handing her the backpack.

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Amber met Mitch on the way home. She pulled out the empty bottle of Aspirin, and he filled her up with diet pills.

"Caffeine highs are the best," he told her, yakking about it on the way home.

She wasn't inclined to speak much.

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The carnality continued as it should have, and it neared homecoming. The girls with boyfriends started to get excited; the others were nervously trying to find some one to take, and Amber couldn't care less –she was going whether she had some one to go with or not. Mostly because it was an excuse to stay out late and her parents would leave her alone.

"You going tonight?" she casually questioned her "fuck-buddy" as she turned over on her futon, her muscles twitching.

"Probably not. Stuff like that bores me." she responded, sitting up and grabbing a cigarette to light. "And I don't feel like getting dressed up."

"Oh."

"Why, you want me to?"

"I don't care," she responded, getting up. "but I have to start getting ready. Where did I put my stuff?"

Remy pointed, proceeding to inhale. Amber went to get ready, placing a sleeveless black dress, black tights, and glossy black heels on- because it made her look thinner. On the right edge of her black dress, were it tied around, was a large, artificial black rose. She put on red lipstick, and eye liner and eye shadow colors to match her eyes. Finally, she used Remy's hair straightener to straighten her hair, and put it up in a bun- slathering it fully with hair spray. It was only a short walk to the school from there, so she gathered all her stuff up- only to have her friend stop her.

"Just come back and get it." She suggested, picking up one of her cigars- getting ready to smoke some of her marijuana.

"Do you ever stop smoking?"

"Only when there's some thing better to do."

"Like what?"

"Crack's nice."

The blonde rolled her eyes. "Well, whatever- I've gotta get there early so I can actually get _in._ See you."

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It was some time later, when Amber had left the group of other business club members who weren't there with dates, (some of whom had hooked up upon meeting just so they could justify being there) to go get a drink, that she felt a familiar hand against hers. The faint scent of cigarette smoke was over-powered by a floral perfume, and when she turned, she saw the person she least expected to come.

"Aside from you saying so earlier," she said, taking a gentle sip of the punch; "this didn't seem like some thing you'd do."

She wasn't well made-up, her wavy hair up in a simple, floppy ponytail, a satin-looking green dress, no tights and red, sparkly heels that weren't nearly as long as Amber's.

"I was bored." she responded, taking Amber's other hand; "And I wondered if you dance the same way you fuck."

There was no pause between the next couple of songs, but Remy managed for them to start just as the one before ended.

_Black dress…_

_With the tights underneath._

_I got the breath of a last cigarette on my teeth_

_And she's an actress_

_But she ain't got no need_

_She's got money from her parents_

_In a trust fund back east _

It was the first time Remy had lead and Amber didn't fight back. They moved and jerked around to the rhythm of the song, intertwined with their own senses, and what they wanted to do.

_T-t-t-tongues_

_Always pressed to your cheek_

_While my tongue is on the inside of some other girl's teeth_

_T-tell your boyfriend_

_If he says he's got beef,_

_That I'm a vegetarian and_

_I ain't fuckin' scared of him! _

The taller girl kissed her, running her tongue along her teeth, not pulling her in for closeness but shortly pulling away.

_She wants to touch me,_

_Whoa!_

_She wants to love me,  
Whoa!_

_She'll never leave me,_

_Whoa-oa, Whoa-oa _

_Oh-oh_

_Don't trust a ho_

_Never trust a ho_

_Won't trust a ho_

_(cause the ho)_

_Won't trust me_

_She wants to touch me,_

_Whoa!_

_She wants to love me,  
Whoa!_

_She'll never leave me,_

_Whoa-oa, Whoa-oa _

_Oh-oh_

_Don't trust a ho_

_Never trust a ho_

_Won't trust a ho_

_(Cause the ho)_

_Won't trust me_

The movements slowly got rougher, harder, and yet- some how more fluid, easier to do, easier to move. They moved comfortably, but rapidly, almost like working out. Almost like having sex. They neared each other and pulled away, switched and turned and tried to change each other's motions. Scratch that, it was legal sex with clothes on.

_X's on the back of your hands_

_Wash them in the bathroom to drink like the bands_

_And the set list_

_You stole off the stage_

_Has red and purple lipstick_

_All over the page_

_B-b-b-bruises _

_Cover your arms_

_Shaking in the fingers with the bottle in your palm_

_And the best is…_

_No one knows who you are,_

_Just another girl_

_Alone at the bar…_

They kissed again, Amber now asserting herself as she realized what it was coming to. Their motions were becoming rougher, more serious. They didn't realize it, but a bunch of guys were watching them- turned on by the sight.

_She wants to touch me,_

_Whoa!_

_She wants to love me,  
Whoa!_

_She'll never leave me,_

_Whoa-oa, Whoa-oa _

_Oh-oh_

_Don't trust a ho_

_Never trust a ho_

_Won't trust a ho_

_(cause the ho)_

_Won't trust me_

_She wants to touch me,_

_Whoa!_

_She wants to love me,  
Whoa!_

_She'll never leave me,_

_Whoa-oa, Whoa-oa _

_Oh-oh_

_Don't trust a ho_

_Never trust a ho_

_Won't trust a ho_

_(cause the ho)_

_Won't trust me_

Closer, nearer, breathing harder- Amber wondered how she did it.

_Shush girl!_

_Shut your lips!_

_Do the Hellen Keller,_

_And talk with your hips!_

_I said_

_Shush girl!_

_Shut your lips!_

_Do the Hellen Keller,_

_And talk with your hips!_

_I said_

_Shush girl!_

_Shut your lips!_

_Do the Hellen Keller,_

_And talk with your hips!_

_She wants to touch me,_

_Whoa!_

_She wants to love me,  
Whoa!_

_She'll never leave me,_

_Whoa-oa, Whoa-oa _

_Oh-oh_

_Don't trust a ho_

_Never trust a ho_

_Won't trust a ho_

_(cause the ho)_

_Won't trust me_

The blonde pushed the taller girl against the wall, using leverage from the heels to make out with her. Several males cheered them on, and finally, Remy pushed her face away.

"Let's go to the bathroom." she whispered, and Amber didn't argue.

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They spent another night together, wrapped in another intense carnal dance. Amber lead, but as Remy learned her body better, it became harder to maintain her position. She just told her mom she was staying at a friend's house, even though Remy was nothing like a friend- at least in Amber's mind. It was well into the wee hours of the morning by the time they went to bed, and there was no speech passed between them- just the panting and a reeling.


	9. Should you

Ninth grade went on with little interference. Amber, of course, managed to graduate with straight-A's. Summer went passed with little excitement as well, though for a few weeks she had some of the college courses to complete. Remy wasn't around much, and even when she was, all they did was fuck. Amber didn't know, nor care, where she was. When tenth grade started, she was fully prepared- having made well into the hundreds at babysitting over the summer, and spent plenty of time with Mitch in his home town...but she was bored. Not that school was all that interesting, but, there were more people to have sex with, and homework and stuff to at least keep her mind off of how insanely bored she was.

It was hard to remember a time when she didn't have to be doing some thing. A time when she was content to just be. She could vaguely remember when it was, and could not remember the feeling. Any more, she had to be doing some thing. More than any thing, she couldn't wait until she graduated college, got herself a job and a house, and paid her own bills. She couldn't wait, because then- she reasoned- she would have accomplished what she wanted to accomplish, there would be nothing to hang over her head, disrupting her sleep so terribly that she had to take Tylenol PM to get to sleep- making it nearly impossible to get up unless she had tons of coffee. Her morning appetite was reduced to nothing, as she hardly cared enough when she got up to get herself ready- but she had to.

"Hey," the cigarette smoke was almost nice, the familiarity of it, the way it cemented her into the present situation. She wasn't at home any more, she was at school. And she didn't have to watch her father drink until he couldn't see straight, nor her mother molly-coddle her brother. Life at home had never been stable, but it was slowly getting more and more out of control. "Did you miss me?"

"No." she responded, hoping Chemistry would be more exciting that Biology. Biology had to be the most boring science there was, mostly because at least half the school year was review.

"Liar."

"Dyke."

"You have terrible aim."

"And your dick is small."

"…nice." the other female smirked. "But it's grown over the summer. I'll get a chance to show you tomorrow."

"Why not today?"

"I have to take my birds to get their wings clipped."

The blonde didn't have time to ask about the birds before the bell rang and she had to rush to class.

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It wasn't until a couple weeks later that Remy invited Amber over to her house, though Amber found out that the birds were kept in the dining room- a room she'd never been in, which was why she'd never seen them.

"Here," she said, turning on the light in the living room. In a huge, green cage were two white cockatoos. "Marrow and Phantom." one of them squawked, and they each preened at their feathers. Amber squealed at the noise from within the bird- almost instinctively, she was unable to control it or stop it before it came out. Could she help that she had a pathological fear of birds? "Oh no, are you telling me birds scare you- of all people?" her "fuck buddy" teased. "The animal you have to be aggressive with?"

Amber shrugged, sighing softly. "Yeah, I never liked birds."

"Fear doesn't suit you, you know." she said, handing the bird a cuttlebone.

"Thanks, I'll remember that when I'm re-arranging my wardrobe."

The bird that had squawked started to whistle, and the other chimed in. Amber had to admit they were cute, even if she disliked birds. She'd stick with her dog, thank you. This was, however, different from the Remy Hadley she usually saw. Not that she figured all there was to her was sex, but she didn't expect this.

"Test on Thursday," squalled one of the birds, and the slightly older girl laughed.

"Got that right. All my teachers this week decided 'test on Thursday.' It was like there was a party or some thing."

Amber realized that she had never thought of the other girl as being 'cute' before. She hadn't ever noticed a desire to just stand and watch, and not worry about what benefits she was or wasn't getting. Sure, some times she wanted it to be a little more, but that was simple, logical thought…in her mind, any ways.

"How'd you do?" she inquired, resting against the wall.

"I think I got an A…mostly B's though, probably."

The blonde quirked a brow. She'd never thought of this girl as the studious or even intelligent type, yet she'd made good grades like that? It didn't make sense to her at all, but then again, she supposed it didn't have to.

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Spring break came as a relief to every one. Friday completed, Amber placed her books into her locker for her week off; she wasn't going to need them.

"Hey," of course. She sighed, locking in the combination.

It was almost like they were a couple, the way they had sex, but they really weren't. Neither of them felt that way towards each other, at least not to their knowledge.

"Hey." she muttered, turning. "What is it?"

"Do you want to come to a party?"

As taken aback as she was, Amber replied with a simple, scoffing; "No."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not into that," she responded, breathing deeply. "And because I happen to know what you're doing is illegal."

"So?" she was shameless, absolutely shameless and blunt. Some times, it irritated Amber to no end, and some times that was the one thing she admired about her. Now, however, she didn't really care.

"I'll break this down into simple terms. You shouldn't do illegal things."

"And you shouldn't always do what you should."

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Amber didn't know how or why she ended up at that party, just that she did. Every one was there, from the new Freshman to the Seniors. In fact, the blonde had never seen such a gathering of people, ever. She curiously watched the drug trading system as the girl who invited her traded Vicodin for marijuana, got some cash for Diarum cigarettes and then spent it on Ritalin. The girl then grabbed a pipe and handed it to her, almost kindly, almost like they had associated outside of school before now. Almost like they knew each other as friends.

"It won't kill you to try it once," she suggested, and Amber pushed it away.

"No, I'd rather not."

Remy didn't push the idea, but pocketed the pipe. "Hey," Amber recognized the voice as Davey's, "We got some more rum, wanna try it?"

And, soon after, Amber had joined the crowd of pipe-smoking, alcohol drinking teens. She found herself playing Truth or Dare Dirty Version, Strip Poker, and several other games she wouldn't normally approve of. But she'd never before lived in the present, never before gave up on caring about the future, in which she'd have a horrible hang-over. It just didn't matter.

She ended up in a closet with her drunken "fuck-buddy," and also with Davey. Even intoxicated, she maintained her position on top, and they came tumbling out of the closet at one point- luckily, all of them mostly clothed. And, after that, she had no memory of any thing else.

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"I'll never do that again." she groaned for days to the person who was as close to a friend as it got for her. Remy didn't dispute, but had a far easier time with her hang-over. There was a lot of smirking, giggling, teasing over the week she stayed, and Amber didn't realize what was inevitably happening.

She didn't realize that slowly, so slowly, she was falling. Almost as if climbing down, but forced by some unavoidable magnet, rooting her to the earth. Slowly, she was giving away what had always made her, her- her demand for respect, her desire to keep love away from her. And she never realized what every thing was doing to her. Nothing was making sense to her any more, and slowly, she was giving up. She had started giving up her desire to have an opinion, for one, and it was shrinking- slowly, and yet quickly. Facts were inhabiting her mind, facts along with logic. Opinions and emotions were anchors, weighing her down. The only things that mattered were things that could be known, for sure. Things in which there were no doubt.

Unfortunately, of all the things she didn't realize, the most important one was that you can't know every thing by only learning what a teacher tells you. Some times, you have to formulate questions and ideas, and find out on your own.

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A/N: Short and crappy, but I wanted it done. I don't have much to say on Junior year, so I'll probably skip right to Senior. Thank you for your support~


	10. Blurs of Time

A/N: Okay, last chapter was not all that great. This one will be a little short, but hopefully good or at least better than the last one. I have very little I think that can be added on these parts of life, but I want to provide windows into the world, any ways. Please don't shoot me!

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By senior year, Amber was pining. Pining, not for a human being, but for a time. She longed for a day when she could feel complete, fully and wholly content. Every day, she told herself she didn't have that long, that any time now she'd be gone and out of the house. Every thing had spiraled so out of control, but it some how had spiraled so slowly that it seemed like it had always been there. It felt like her dad had always drunk himself to sleep on whatever sort of alcohol he could get, it felt like her brother had always been a spoiled little brat, and it was just so…annoying. She no longer could escape into school and baby sitting, because her mom "needed" her home by a certain time, and she was constantly dreading it- the "How are your grades" and "Why not this" and just…every thing.

Her mom demanded that she cook dinner and keep the house clean for no pay, and insisted she do it a certain way. Of course, Amber- with her need for respect- felt horribly degraded by the demands. But, as of now, there were only a couple of weeks left. Only a couple of weeks left until she could finally bring herself back to the present, until she could be here instead of there because there would be here. Maybe it wouldn't make sense to any one else, but, to Amber, it made perfect sense.

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Graduation passed, and many of the graduating students cried. There was much hugging, talking, exchanging information, and what ever. Not for Amber, she had no ties with any one here. Remy was the closest person she had to a friend, and they weren't very close. But that night would be their final night together; the taller girl was moving, she said, to where ever she planned to attend college. So would she, she thought to herself. She had a place set up, all she needed to do was move in.

She stayed that night with Remy, still on top, still the alpha. It was harder than ever maintain her position, but she did. And, for what ever reason, she was compelled to make this night the best. To make it…memorable, somewhere, somehow. She didn't want this other girl to forget her…but the last person she would admit that to was herself. And they went longer this time than ever before, challenging, twirling, changing, and shifting, almost like high school. It was four years of hormones, pheromones, emotions, and frustration crammed into hours. It was every thing Amber had ever shielded herself from, the pain, the feelings, and every thing that she would still never admit, put into physical form. It was the blood, the sweat, the tears that never fell, the night of intoxication, and it was just…draining.

Amber fell off to the side, nearing collapse. Her muscles twitched and spasmed involuntarily, giving her little shocks of added pleasure to the night. But the thing she really wanted was to stay…a desire she tucked away, to the pocket of her mind, but it was still there. She hid it from the world, because it was the next best thing to hiding it from herself. Remy had been her secret life, there was a thrill there. It was nice to have a secret life; secret moments where she'd lay awake and just watch her sleep until it lulled her off as well. She would miss it, she realized to herself. She would miss it, but it wouldn't bother her.

"Amber," whispered her secret, the secret she kept even from people who knew. She felt the long hand grab her own. "I love you."

The blonde was shocked at the confession, and at that moment, was willing to give it all up and just stay here. She was willing to let every thing else not matter, to just throw it up in the air and let it fall. The moment passed quickly, however, and she was left confused. Three words was an overload of information on her already taxed brain.

"Oh." she muttered, turning over.

Not another word was passed between them, but Amber didn't struggle when she woke up in the middle of the night and found herself in Remy's arms.

She'd never admit it, but she was in love with her, too.

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Amber started med school the following year. At 17 years old, she was the youngest med school Freshman attending Stanford, University. Her growth spurt continued, and for the first few months, she thought of Remy- wondering where she had gone, wishing they could see each other again. She honestly tried not to care, tried to push her thoughts away into her work, but she couldn't.

And then, after a while, it just left- flooded into a serenade of one-night stands for what ever favors she needed. _Kind of sad that the only way you're good enough for a favor is to fuck some one. _But she was good at it. Hell, she fucked the teacher to up her grade 20% (she had an 80%) in Psychology.

Even now, however, she wasn't happy. Her parents called, still illusioned- some how- that she believed they really cared. Eventually, she stopped answering. She didn't want to know how her brother was running away from home and hanging out with questionable people, she didn't want to know how badly they wanted a divorce, and she didn't want to hear the lectures. She didn't need it. She didn't need any more reminders of how unhappy she still was, of how much she hated her two room mates and sharing a bathroom with four guys.

But the years passed. Slowly, but, they passed. Like a slow moving car, where every thing that passes looks like a blur because you only saw it out of the corner of your eyes and didn't care enough to get a look at it. Finally, she graduated, with her medical degree and specialty in radiology. The internship was hell, but she'd made it, and now every thing was a blur. Every lecture, every one-night-stand, every party, every fight with her room mates was gone. She could no longer access those feelings that had come when they happened, only access that they had happened and that they hadn't mattered. She had her knowledge, and that was all she needed.

It was a few months later, just before her 27'th birthday, that she moved to New Jersey- after being called back from a hospital she'd applied to.

But she knew nothing of what she was getting herself into…


	11. What you don't want

A/N: This one gets into an episode, and forgive me if some information is inaccurate- I didn't memorize it verbatim. Enjoy!~

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"Amber!" Jake greeted as she came walking through the door of the apartment they shared. "Hey, what were you out all day doing?"

She was starting to really hate that question. The blonde sighed and seated herself on the couch. "I had a job interview."

Jake looked at her with the same confused look she'd seen for a year and a half, since they met during her internship. "You're crazy. You need to just stay here, and I'll take care of you."

Amber bit her lip. Jake really was a nice guy, and she liked him (well, she thought), but he just annoyed the hell out of her.

"Who's going to stay home and watch the kids when we finally decide to have them?"

"I told you," she thrummed deep in her throat, with a serious expression; "I don't want to have kids."

"Not _yet_," he insisted, turning the television on. Jake put his arms around her, and she sighed, letting herself relax. He had good intentions, right? "But we will in the future."

Amber wasn't inclined to argue. She just didn't feel like it. Besides, he hadn't gotten it the other millions of times she told him she didn't want to have kids. Sure, she'd like to have one, but she couldn't handle it with such a taxing job. But the more she told him that, the more he tried to convince her not to work. What was she supposed to do, sit at home and watch soaps all day? That just didn't appeal.

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Then again, trying to come up with a differential for a dead man wasn't appealing, either. To waste knowledge on a diagnosis that wouldn't matter either way? But Amber kept her mouth shut. She wanted this job, and she'd done plenty of down-and-dirty things to get this far, it seemed pointless to suddenly change her attitudes now. Answers flew back and forth, almost as though these people were taking the diagnosis seriously. She tried to look like she cared, and maybe she had been contemplating other possible diagnosis; after all, maybe it would help keep her skills sharp. Her mind wandered, though- as much as she tried to keep it from happening. It wandered to her highschool and college days that had led here, it wandered to her recently deceased dog, it wandered to the boyfriend she was just going back and forth about…and then, House left the room.

"Row C, you're fired!"

Thank god she was in Row E.

"My apologies, Row C is not fired- Row D is fired!"

She sighed and sat, her fingers stroking her hair. Number "6" found some paper and started making paper airplanes. Yeah, it was just like being in middle school.

"I want seven alternative diagnosis' when I get back!"

Amber glanced around as the door shut. Well, some thing they cleaned the suit with could have caused a reaction, right? Or perhaps he had a prior infection, and some thing about the suit set it off. Okay, that didn't even make sense. But that some thing in the cleaner was toxic…oh, great, now _she_ was taking it seriously.

"Guys, House is going to be in any minute," number 18 warned. Amber could see it with no problem whatsoever; number 6 was the "class clown", number 18 the "goody-goody," and a few of them seemed like the type to fall asleep mid-class. Some were chatting, including the girl behind her. Most of them switched out of their seats and went to go talk to people- almost like friends casually chatting about medicine.

"I'm warning you, guys, we're going to get into serious trouble."

"Please, we're adults here." mumbled a female in response, taking the words from Amber's mouth. She looked at the number; 13. "We're not sitting around waiting for the teacher to get back." Hey, she realized, number 13 looked familiar. Where did she…

"We have a case!" Amber jolted her attention towards House. Number 6 quickly disguised his paper-planes.

"I have a theory," one continued; "it could have-"

"Don't care! Okay, 37-year-old female presents with synesthesia. We have no information, any files on her have been burned, any scans shredded, any faxes were lost. We have no background history, no medical records…and, as far as you're concerned, the patient is Osama Bin Laden, and every one not inside this room is Delta Force."

"We're helping Osama Bin Laden?"

"It's a metaphor, get used to it."

Amber smirked in amusement and humor.

"Can we at least find out her name?"

"You think her name might be connected to what's wrong with her?" House opened the door, and what ever patient he'd been rambling about came in. "Heeeeeeere's Osama!"

"Okay, since I have you all numbered…we'll do this…alphabetically."

Well, the day was certainly turning up. A real, living patient who was hearing with her eyes was certainly more important than dead actors- to a doctor doing their job, any ways.

"Has any one around you been sick? Any friends or family?" Amber questioned. It was honest to God the most basic question she could think of, yet the other doctor hadn't bothered to ask it?

"No, not that I know of."

"How do we even know this is legit?"

"You think I would interrupt Buddy if it wasn't?"

_Does she spend much time above 30,000 feet?_

Why did that sounds familiar? Amber turned to look, along with several other people who had turned to look more out of their confusion than any other reason. Her voice sounded familiar, some how…and, now that she thought about it, she looked a little familiar. Her eyes…where was she from?!

"Well, that was an odd question. Why would you ask that?"

"Could have been clot that embolized to her brain through a PTF."

"And that was an odd choice of diagnosis."

"Well, like you said- you wouldn't have interrupted Buddy if it wasn't."

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The day was full of 'why'. Amber was happy to get home, if not for Jake. He had been messaging her all day;

"Hey, where are you?"  
"What are you doing?"  
"I'm worried, please message me back."

Finally, she'd just told him she was out to lunch with her friend, and told Cole she was still working elsewhere. They say lying is the most fun a girl can have with out taking her clothes off.

"Hey, where were you?"

She didn't want to hear the questions, or the ranting, or the pestering about getting married and having children any more. She didn't want to try to justify the wet spots on her pants, the frizz in her hair or the suds on the side of her shirt. She didn't want to yell and scream at him about how he had sat at home all day and let the laundry and the dishes pile up, and didn't get any thing done. She simply glared at him, told him to make dinner and- with out another word- got into the shower. She wanted to wash off every thing that had happened that day, and- thankfully- Jake didn't bother her.

He cooked pasta for dinner. He burned the meat. The noodles weren't cooked the whole way through. She didn't like the sauce. She swallowed it as a means to survive, and didn't speak. He didn't try to talk to her, either. Not until she stood, glared at him and- with out moving her plate- barked;

"Get this house cleaned up before you think of coming into bed."

Amber crawled into the bedroom they shared, changed into her pajamas and put the old clothes in a hamper to keep them up off the floor. Then, she situated herself on the bed. She didn't feel like hearing the sounds of the TV or radio, or like focusing on a book. She just laid there and relaxed, trying not to think of the job she had to go back to.

Jake came in about two hours later, positioned himself on top of her, and hugged her up to him.

"I'm sorry the house was such a wreck when you got here," he told her, sincerely.

"Sorry I bugged out on you." She lied.

Jake laid her down. "I should do more around here…I'm just used to the idea of you taking care of all that."

Even though she never did. But she didn't fight. She just laid there. And he stripped her, and she stripped him. It was a little better in high school, really- guys and girls. Jake always made sure she orgasmed, any ways. Even when she didn't feel like having an orgasm or even, didn't feel like having sex.

But it was kind of nice, any ways.

Doing that made her remember how in love with her she was.

Kind of.

Sort of.

Maybe…


	12. Alcohol and Lace

Work started at 8:00am. Amber always got up at 5, to the music playing on her cell phone alarm.

Well, maybe not always.

By the time she woke up the next day, it was mere seconds before 6. Enraged, she looked next to her to see Jake still sleeping. How could he sleep through that? She turned off her cell and just sat a minute, looking at him. Hell, she'd waited this long, she may as well. He was kind of cute, in fact, really cute. And he was pretty good at sex…not as good as some high school guys she'd had, or even Remy, but he was still pretty good.

Remy…Amber wondered how she possibly remembered her now. The last time she saw her, she was a tall, way-to-thin rebel, hair died black with poorly applied mascara. She had always been ill-groomed, she thought, but never quite…"nasty." She probably couldn't ever compare any one to her.

With the hour taken away from her morning routine, she had a little more than half the time she usually had. Prioritizing was key here. She finished watching her boyfriend sleep and decided to get up to speed through her morning routine.

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Amber sighed with relief. She walked into the hospital right on time, and wondered- the same way she did every day- why she tried so hard to get there on time when House didn't get there until noon on a good day.

"Good morning, Doctor Volakis." Cuddy said in her 'I-can-see-your-hands-are-empty' sort of way, handing her some files. "Exam room 4, 6, 12, and…9,"

"Aw, 9 ruined the even-numbers." She smirked, taking the file. Cuddy tolerated House; it would be harder to get wrapped around her finger, but she was sure she could do it…

House actually arrived at 11:59. Kutner openly wondered if the world was ending. Amber didn't care to watch peoples' reactions at that point, she was more excited to find an opening to tell on him and eliminate some of the competition.

"We put her on nitro and blood thinners, her EKG and Electrolytes were normal, the attack wasn't caused by the procedure."

"So what causes synesthesia, high red blood-cell count and heart attack?"

"Aren't we gonna discuss what caused the sudden appearance of burnt flesh?" that was any thing but sudden; "He brought charged paddles into an oxygenated room!"

"Well, you didn't try to stop him. Which means either you thought it was worth taking the risk, making you a hypocrite, or you thought he'd fail, making you a cut-throat little pixie."

Amber sat back in her chair wordlessly. House always knew every thing, even his best friend he analyzed. She would probably have to get closer to him than this; much, much closer. She blocked out embarrassment by thinking of ways to improve, the same way she always had.

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She walked into the cafeteria, only to be greeted by the scent of poor-quality hospital food. It was a reminder of why she always either went out to the sub shop, or brought a lunch. Most of the people gathered into groups. Amber rolled her eyes; they didn't think House would notice if they had the same answers? The thing she was most concerned about…. Maybe "26", "13", and "2" were pre-chosen, and House actually _was _just keeping them around for the fun of it? Well, maybe she could change his mind.

_Poorly-cooked meat _was the first thing she put on her list. And, she smiled to herself when she realized the irony of the situation. Still, ten things that cause infection shouldn't be too hard to figure out. Transferring of good bacteria, for example- to put your hand in your mouth? Well, sure, the bacteria did their job on your hands, but when placed in the wrong area of your body could cause infection…cat feces, mosquito bites, bitten/scratched by stray animals…or, people. That was five. Did he specify the type of infection? Antibiotics, then. Antibiotics cause fungal infections. Being around some one who was contagious, getting water trapped in your ears, swimming in bacteria-infected water or mud…nine. Sex, if one of the two partners wasn't clean. Ten, and that last one should score her some points.

In two minutes, she'd come up with all that. She took another piece of paper out of the notebook she had and started doodling on it. Luckily, House announced himself shortly after, took all of their paper's, and left the cafeteria. The rest of them followed, only to meet the three that ran the test.

Okay, atrial flutter. And why did that "13" person keep popping up every where? TRH test for hyperthyroidism, cause another heart attack, blah blah blah.

Oh, god, not again. Amber picked up her PDA, and, sure enough- three messages.

'Where are you?

I can't reach you by cell

What are you doing? Call me!'

Why the hell did he have to act like he owned her? She typed a short message back on reply;

"Sorry, went shopping…left my phone in my purse." And started to save some more of the patient data on the PDA, as a back up for the files in case any thing went wrong. Wait a minute, this could mean some thing. She watched a fight she wasn't interested in actually listening to, just waiting for a minute to ask;

"What did you find at her home?"

And then, the patient went crazy. She broke out of the room and ran down the hall, dodging their every move- and of course Amber wasn't going to run in heels. It took all three of them five minutes to find her, minus the fighting between the two guys- again.

"What is this, an elementary pissing contest? Fighting isn't going to find her," she snapped, quickly shutting them both up.

"10" managed to find her, barred behind a hospital door. Great. Amber paged House, figuring he may have some idea as to getting her out.

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God, was she thankful for lunchtime when it finally came. She grabbed her lunch-pack out of the fridge and sat down. Hm, Dr. Wilson was around, with no House (he was probably in Cuddy's office). He had brought some thing as well, she deducted. Maybe if she got some points with Wilson, she could get some with House…it was worth a shot.

"Dr. Wilson, 'afternoon." she said, smiling as kindly as she could to some one she'd never even met.

"Hello…" he paused, looking at the tag with the number; "24. I take it you're one of the 40." it was a statement of fact, not a question. Her smile faltered to a crooked sort of smirk. "The 40" must have been the codeword. It was insulting, though, that she was just a number out of 40. Still, he obviously didn't mean to be offending.

"Well, I guess you could say that, Dr. Wilson." she told him, taking the small, home-made sub sandwich out of her pack. Seeing that she was eating must have triggered some thing in him to realize that she was a human, too.

"What do you prefer to be called?"

"My name's Amber." she told him, removing the sub from its wrapping and taking out a small thermos filled with V8 Orange-Pineapple Juice. "I guess Cuddy would know me as Dr. Volakis."

"Amber's much less complicated." He said, lowering the newspaper he'd had to take a bite of chicken from the Hungry Man tray. "I guess that means you can call me James, if you want. Or just Wilson, every one here knows I'm a doctor." he added, chuckling. "Do you know where House is, by chance, Amber?"

"I think he's in the principal's office." she responded, smirking with humor as she bit into the sandwich. "We had an episode with our patient."

"Greta, right?" he questioned, putting down the paper.

"I don't know…"

"NASA Pilot? Crashed on a flight simulator? House told me about her."

"We didn't know he knew her name."

"He was keeping it secret. I'm sure every one knows now, though." He added as the parade of House's fellows all marched into the cafeteria almost at once. "Well, except you. You've been here, so, now you know." There was a pause with both of them eating and drinking. Amber had never noticed any thing mildly pleasant about sitting with some one, but this wasn't bad. It was different, but she couldn't tell quite yet if she liked it. "You know," he finally said, swallowing potatoes; "most of the girls don't eat, or don't eat near enough." She turned to face them, and sure enough, neither of the twins were eating, "13" had finished very little of the Marie Calender's Mac & Cheese she brought and seemed to already be done, and "2" seemed almost allergic to American food. She didn't see any one else.

"I…don't think I was anorexic for long, as a teen." she responded, smiling softly. "Depending on how you define anorexia, of course."

Very little conversation passed between them after that.

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"Amber," she recognized the voice as "13"'s as she was packing up her stuff to leave. Every one had left before, but she'd stayed behind to do clinic hours and take a break after the psychotic attack. The voice was casual, almost like a 'do you see my belonging back there I need it'.

"Yeah?" she replied, standing. Her hair was a mess, her clothes had gotten an array of things on them, and she felt horribly in need of a shower, but she faced the girl, any ways.

She suddenly felt herself pushed against the wall, 13's hand in the valley that would separate her breasts. "13" spent a long moment glaring at her, then, kissed her in a loveless but passionate, furious expression of almost-anger. Anger…worn and faded over the years. And Amber didn't know how to react.

"Amber Volakis." the girl responded, backing away, smiling humourlessly. "The last time I saw you, you were half my size…" Amber was shocked and dumbfounded, and the girl obviously noticed. "Then, you are dumb." she smirked, glancing down. "Think about it…when was the last time some one did that to you?"

The blonde paused for thirty seconds, then breathed deeply. "High school…." she drawled, hanging onto every letter as it came to her mouth. "No…no way you're—"

"Shut up, don't tell me this is the only time you recognized me?"

"You were kinda familiar…" she replied, in a haze of confusion. No way this was Remy Hadley standing in front of her. The lesbian, druggie, alcoholic partier? The whore? The rebel? And she looked disappointed that Amber hadn't realized it was her.

"Save it, you don't have to lie. I just wanted to tell you, nothing about me is any of _their_" she hissed the word; "business." And then she backed away, the same way she did in high school. She always backed away.

"Why," questioned Amber; "didn't you tell me you loved me until the end of the school year?"

There was a long pause, a long silence. And then the girl finally said;

"I was always saying it, Amber. You were just never listening."


	13. Aztec Motel

A/N: The "principal's office" scene happens before Cuddy interrupts the operation.

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Amber practically slammed the gas her whole way home, barely able to stop at red lights, and each time giving herself whip-lash. Three crashes were narrowly avoided in the 20 minute period it took her to get home. Normally, it only took 15, but she avoided it intentionally. Then, she sat in the driveway. The car on, burning gas, the radio blasting with what ever nonsense it had been spewing out. And she just sat there, her hands at her sides, staring. She didn't cry, or yell, or scream, or even wish to do them. Some thing was telling her that the girl, the feeling, the contact- was just fantasy. But it wasn't. Slowly, Amber moved her numbing hand to the door and struggled with her fingers to let herself out.

The rest of that night she spent watching cutesy, gag-worthy romance films with Jake on the DVD player. She thought, from time-to-time, about how she used to feel bad about lying to him, and about how now it was just second nature. She never used to want to lie to him, and now he seemed like the annoying has-been. Scratch that, he was the annoying has-been. At first, it was kind of cute how he wanted to take care of her. It wasn't necessary, but nonetheless it was cute. Now it made her want to vomit pretty colors. The extent to which he insisted on it made her skin crawl.

They got to bed at about 10, but Jake was the only one who slept. Amber laid awake beside him, just thinking. Thinking about how she didn't even love him. Thinking about how he treated her like a child. Thinking about "13", House, her parents, her life, and about how much she didn't need this. Thinking about how she didn't want to leave, but she could do it. She could do this. After she laid there thinking, she got up and walked around. It was nearly midnight. If she was going to do this, she was going to do it now. Thank God she kept her clothes organized in just one place. She put them in her hamper, folded and hanged alike, grabbed her miscellaneous other things and some food, and left a simple note to Jake;

_Don't worry about me._

_-Volakis _

She addressed herself by her last name, as any thing less would have signaled and ongoing relationship. And then she drove to a motel near the hospital called Aztec Ocean Resort.

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Lack of sleep plagued her with headaches from the moment she woke up. At best, she had gotten four hours of sleep. Being in a new place was strange, and it was strange not to feel some one else's presence. Ibuprofen took the edge off, though, so she brought it with her to work.

House arrived at 9. This time, no one gawked or made remarks about the apocalypse; he was simply excited (if that was the word for it) to get his "drinking contest" going. It didn't really matter; "13", "18" and House would be the only ones to attend- whereas she would be stuck working the recovery rooms. It was simple work, for which she was thankful, but any other day anger would have churned inside her for the meager, slave-like work she had to endure. The rest of the 40 were scattered around where ever they were needed, she assumed.

"Hey, Amber," it was Wilson, with his 'I-need-a-favor' face (she'd learned long ago to recognize it); "can you take these meds to the patient in room 104? They need me for an emergency consult downstairs."

Since she wasn't doing any thing else, she agreed- half out of her sleeping brain and half out of just sheer boredom. The problem started when she noticed there were two patients in room 104. But since the medicine was in a syringe, and only one had an IV, she approached the one with an IV (who was conveniently sleeping) and shot her up with it, then charted it on the file one of the nurse's left for the doctors.

"_Will all the members of House's team please recruit to the seminar room? I repeat, all members of House's team gather into the recruit room, you are needed. Thank you."_

Amber turned the file into the girl's nurse and used the elevator to get downstairs.

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House needed help trying to force their patient into surgery. Amber, personally, was done playing these games. The extent to which the government handicapped most doctors was bad enough, but this was ridiculous. They all ran around like chickens with their heads cut off, trying to appease her. Well, sorry, but things are how they are, and Greta Cooper should have known well enough that her only other option was death.

Amber had just opened her mouth to suggest a legal document when Number "9" suggested 'just doing it' and "2" debated it with the idea that she'd sue.

"Sue for what?" she practically hissed with sarcasm; "Making it harder to lie to the government?" oh, the irony of that situation, but still, "2" couldn't afford to say or even think any thing bad about American government.

Just like every thing else with House, within the next couple minutes, they were doing a boob job. Amber rolled her eyes, thinking of how the patient would dispute that, too.

"_Will Dr. Amber Volakis please meet Dr. Cuddy in the administrative office? I repeat, Dr. Amber Vol..ak…Volakis, please meet Dr. Cuddy in the administrative office."_

Confused, she pushed away from her desk and trailed the hall into Dr. Cuddy's office, trying to ignore the mass of "oooh, you're in trouble!" from behind her.

"Grow up," she muttered to herself, grabbing a hold of the door.

"Doctor Volakis," Cuddy questioned in her half-curious, half-accusative tone; "why did you give Jessica Mendell 2mg of Cortisol?"

"…what?" she asked, confused. Who could she be talking about? Greta was their patient's name, not Jessica.

"The patient in bed one… of room…" she flipped through the file; "104…? The recovery floor?"

Amber blinked. Oh! The patient, she hadn't taken the time to remember her name.

"Because what I'm thinking you did, is that you just skimmed the file," Cuddy's voice was as critical as her father's, making her twitch inwardly. _Work harder, you have to do better, don't do such frivolous things. _Live in the present, Amber, what was she saying? "…the other patient in the same room was supposed to get IV Cortisol for Addison's Disease."

"You're right, Dr. Cuddy." Amber looked down. "I guess I didn't read it very carefully."

"I see." she said, sitting back, eye-ing the girl. "You're lucky," she continued; "that it wasn't a huge mistake. A little bit of Cortisol shouldn't be a big deal, but we have to keep her for at least another night to monitor her condition. The same with Mrs. Mendell. If it were any thing more dire, Dr. Volakis, I'd have 2 good minds to fire you, but for now you're off the hook."

"Thank you, Dr. Cuddy."

"One more thing," the blonde paused; "if this ever happens again, dire or not, you will be fired immediately." she wasn't loud, screaming, or angry, but she was slightly snappy and critical in tone. Amber didn't like it. Normally, she would have fought back, or asked for a calmer tone, but she didn't. Not because Cuddy could fire her, the way House was, Amber was sure she couldn't- least of all with out causing a ruckus. But, for what ever reason, she just didn't fight back. She got frustrated but not angry. And god was she tired… "Am I clearly understood, Dr. Volakis?"

"Yes, Dr. Cuddy. It won't happen again as long as I'm here."

"Good, see to it then. Now, go back and do your job."

Amber hadn't experienced butterflies since high school, and not the good kind, either. These were the kind that made you sick, that terrified you, the kind school principals struck into young children, some of whom lost it. But there was some thing else. Some thing like her father. Her father had always had a quality that made her obey him, no matter how she had to do it; screaming, yelling, kicking, biting, and whining- but still doing it. She felt crushed beneath an unknown pressure.

_You should do some thing more worth your time. You have to keep working harder. You're lucky this wasn't on a major test, you really should get studying. Start college early. _

Exhaustion was the decided culprit.

------------------------------------------------------

She managed not to get fired, but couldn't quite tell if that was a good thing or not. A few minutes passed, she let every one else leave the room before she did as not to get caught up in the rush. That had been some thing she learned the first day, which suddenly seemed so long ago.

"Hey, Amber, you got a minute?"

It was Wilson. She turned, sighed, and nodded almost simultaneously. "Yeah, I guess."

"I found out what happened with Mendell," he said kindly. "Why didn't you tell her what actually happened?"

"That….did actually happen, Dr. Wilson. I didn't read the chart thoroughly enough and gave medication to the wrong patient."

"Any doctor could just have easily made the mistake. I should have told you who it was, you didn't have access to the whole file, how were you to know if it was her first time?"

She tried to answer, but couldn't.

"I wanted to apologize…and thank you for taking the rap for me. I owe you one."

"Okay, sure…" she smiled crookedly. "I'll see you later, Dr. Wilson."

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Amber ordered pizza for dinner and had a couple of sodas she'd brought. Hell, she was too tired to cook. As early as she could, she crawled into bed and re-set her alarm for 6.


	14. Why

teA/N: I've been getting some reviews asking me how this is going to end up. I'm following the plot for the show, guys, sorry! I've also been writing in-between scenes...sorry if I disappoint any one.

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All off them have been waiting for at least an hour. Some of them longer. Amber was getting ready to fall asleep, as uncomfortable as the chair was, she'd been sleeping poorly. Well, what ever this was, she needed to get home. She had to finish unpacking her clothes, cleaning the place, finding a place for her food and replacing what she didn't have- just to name a few things. If there was any thing she didn't need, it was having a boss show up at 3:00pm and running them around unil he felt like stopping, and here it was almost 4.

"He said by three, it's almost four." she stood, removing the number. "I'm leaving."

"Nobody follow her, she pied-pipered nine people out of a job last week."

She was about to snap some thing back at him when House walked in.

Great, just what she needed.

----------------------------------------------------------

Well, at least she got to make things a little more easy and interesting by being transferred to the men's team. Simple logic; the men were idiots. She'd find the problem and get to look even better, and the men would feel on good terms with her for being allowed to stay in the game.

As much as they didn't really want her on their team, and didn't have a problem making it obvious.

Amber went to the ER and started trying to locate Cameron. Whether they liked it or not, she was part of the men's team.

"Nurse Brenda, I need an emergency consult with Dr. Cameron..." Amber breathed, leaning against the counter. "do you know where she might be?"

"You mean there?" the lady drawled, eyes barely lifting from what ever she was looking at. She turned and, low and behold, there she was.

"Thanks," she said, going after the blonde. "Hey, , can I talk to you for a sec?"

"Can you talk and walk at the same time?"

"Yeah."

"Then shoot."

Just before she was getting ready to say what she intended to, she was stopped by a rather odd sight. Luckily, Cameron also seemed to have been stopped by a patient who wouldn't leave his stitches alone. "Why do you keep a D-cell battery in a urine sample cup?"

"It was removed from a patient's intestine."

"Why would some one swallow a battery?"

"Who said they swallowed it?"

"Would have been worse if he used a nine-volt."

"Who said it was a 'he'?" well, Cameron looked amused at simply recalling the incident. Amber almost wondered how recent it was, but even had the thought emerged consciously, she wouldn't have asked.

"False assumptions...good, you're tying to get me to think like him."

"And you're trying to kiss my ass." was every one onto her?! "Why are you talking to me?"

"Because House is turning patient care into a game." she responded with as much intensity as she could muster. Things had become too easy any more, she almost felt the intensity she feigned. "It's dangerous- the patient is going to suffer, and maybe even die."

Hook, line, and sinker.

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Feeling accomplished, and maybe a little ill, Amber dragged herself into House's office. It was empty and his couch was bare. She laid down on it a little while, and slipped into a light sleep, which she woke out of after 45 minutes. The power-nap gave her enough energy to get up and walk into the lab, where her team mates were running tests.

In short, she convinced them to let her join the team.

After the incident with the patient, she didn't feel much like going home and putting her stuff away or cooking or any thing she knew she'd feel like she had to do if she went home. To eliminate some of it, she walked into the cafeteria, got a simple dinner and then went home, where she laid in a bed and refused to turn on the light.

----------------------------------------------------------

Wilson got to return his favor the next day when she sneaked out of the office and went back in through his.

"I was never here," she told him seriously; he would know what she wanted.

Then House electrocuted himself.

Once again- why was she working here?

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A/N: Short and suckish...I promise the next one will be awesome.


	15. Into the Present

He reminded her of her brother. The way he talked, the way he looked, the way he acted. The fact that he was a drug addict drove her even crazier.

_Stop it! _She yelled inside her mind, but never said any thing. She never said any thing out loud.

"You played the game better than any one,"

House never seemed the type to give a speach on accepting. But, well, maybe he was. She was here, for a moment, and she was happy.

wi

"but for the wrong reasons."

"Reasons don't matter, results--"

"You were wrong. If you're going to work for me, you have to be willing to lose. I think you just did...you're fired."

She felt a chill run through her body. A crippling feeling collapsed onto her, and she sat down in the chair. Breathe in, breathe out. After every thing she'd been through...every thing she'd done, as hard as she worked. She was crying, and suddenly she realized there was a world around her. She was breathing. The tears were hot and wet. The air conditioner made soft whirring sounds. And she should have recognized "13" by her voice. When the door slammed, it made her jump.

She was here. In her body, in the present, right now. It felt strange, it felt wrong, but some how familiar. Amber grabbed her jacket, then, and walked out- feeling the glide of the metal on her fingers. She had always done this, why had she never noticed- never felt it?

--------------------------------------------

"You're going to have to grow old after all," she growled to him as he woke up, never once before having felt all the anger inside herself. "You have measles, we're blasting you with corticosteroids."

"What's wrong with you?" just like Nicholas. Her heart skipped- she missed her brother terribly.

"I got fired."

"Well, what are you doing here?"

"Trying not to care."

"Oh." he replied, sounding compassionate. "That's not easy."

Like he knew. And maybe he did. But nothing seemed right any more. Nothing was fair. After she worked so hard and went through every thing she did, maybe she should just have had a good time. Maybe she shouldn't have tried so hard. She once again began to cry and left as quickly as possible.

----------------------------------------------------------

"," it was Wilson again. She pretended not to hear him and clawed around for some tissues. "Hey, I was wondering if you had any steril--you okay?"

Genuine concern; it hurt deep in her chest, worse than being around her patient. Even worse than her patient's concern. As hard as she tried not to, she could only cry harder.

"I got fired," she managed to gasp out; "I don't have access to any thing any more."

"Wow." he said, seemingly shocked. "I'm surprised you were fired."

"Yeah, I'm going home now." guilt. "Sorry..."

"For what?" she grabbed her things out of her locker and walked right passed him so he wouldn't see her. "Amber,"

She stopped. "James?"

"You want some thing to carry all that in?"

The blonde looked down- she was carring a lot; hair gel, blow drier, hair staightener, make-up, extra clothes, tampons, gum, hair brushes, and a multitude of other things. "Do you have any thing?"

"I have a couple of grocery bags..." he said, opening his own locker. "I ended up keeping for, whatever reason..." he pulled them both out. "It's nothing really expensive, but, it should make it easier on you."

"Thanks." she muttered, dividing her stuff between the bags.

"No problem,"

"What are you doing here, any ways?"

"Emergency consult."

"Oh." he followed her out of the room.

"Hey," he said, kindly; "it'll be okay. You have a liscence, I'm sure you can find plenty of other...more normal...places to practice."

"Thanks."

"You know," he began as they approached her car; "I was getting ready to go get some dinner and have a few drinks. If you haven't eaten dinner yet, I'll pay for you."

"I can pay for myself, ." she responded, more pleasantly than she expected herself to. "But if you're asking me out, I'm not really interested in a relationship."

"Come on, you wouldn't say that if I were a girl."

"You mean you aren't?" she teased. And...Wilson actually laughed.

"Good one. Now I really can't believe he fired you."

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The place wasn't particularly fancy, just a little bar with fairly expensive prices. Out of simple courtesy, she only ordered one White Russian, then got a lemonade- which had free re-fills. She almost didn't order any thing to eat- the drinks had been enough already- when she realized she still had money. Not much, only about $10, but it was enough to at least pay him back for the drinks. She pulled the bill out of her wallet and handed it to him.

"I don't think it's enough to pay for every thing, but at least the drinks."

He didn't seem to know what to do.

"Does House pay you back so infrequently?" she smirked.

"You don't have to pay me,"

"," she began, shortly; "In all honesty...you're too easy to figure out. You clearly think I'm in some financial need, so you're offering me money because that would make you the hero. Because I'm some how more attractive to you. I've seen people like you, Wilson, and they always end up resenting it."

There was a long pause before Wilson took the money, stunned into silence.

"But do you actually care?"

She smiled, more grimly, pressing her fist into the bar counter. "Who knows, Dr. Wilson?" she replied, returning to the usual prefix.

The waitress returned shortly with Amber's Grilled Chicken and Mozeralla panini, and Dr. Wilson's eggrolls.

"Mind if I take a shot?" he asked, taking a drink at his martini, and setting his glass down.

It took her a minute to figure out what he meant. "Go right ahead."

Wilson coughed, as though he were about to give a big speech. "Amber Volakis," he said, as though it were of some great important measure; "you hide your problems behind other peoples', because it's easier for you to face some one else's problem than your own. You play cut-throat, because, that's how you win. But some where along the way, I think..." his voice and expression softened; "I think maybe you lost who you were, because you got so caught up in winning the game."

There was a pause. Amber drinked at the lemonade and nibbled at the remaining edge of her panini. "And if I say you're wrong?"

"You'd be lying."

"And if I say you're right?"

"Then you're admitting it."

"And if I don't say any thing?"

"It's too late for that one."

She chuckled a little bit.

"But do you care?" she asked him, only half-caring about what his response would be, half figuring she knew the answer.

"Who knows, Amber?" he asked, and she could tell he was struggling not to reach out and grab her hand.

She didn't want to, she didn't need to...but suddenly her hand was in his. When she realized it, she blushed.

----------------------------------------------------------

Wilson was nice, she thought- mulling the night over in her mind as she laid in bed. He was nice, she just had no desire to be in a relationship. She had no desire to be heald, to be stroked, to be caressed, to hold hands and walk down a beach...nor did she have a desire to constantly be trying to please some one else. Least of all after Jake. He was nice. He was attractive...he was funny, but she didn't need Prince Charming. She could rescue herself. Even though she'd dreamed of being Cinderella as a child...and he could see straight through her.

Why was this bothering her so much?! The present, now that she was here, suddenly seemed much smaller. It felt like she had suddenly crash landed into the earth, felt the air for the very first time, as though she had been trapped in a bubble. She wondered if she had ever really felt skin, or any thing she had touched- had she truly felt it? Had she truly seen what she looked at, or heard what she listened to? Was this really the same world she had always been in? But this world suddenly felt closer...and then there was Wilson.

Not now...but...maybe some time, she could have a relationship with him.


	16. Interferences and Root Beer

A/N: Amber and House's conversation is not 100% accurate, but it contains the important elements. Please, do not send me reviews telling me I didn't get it right. Also, this chapter mostly goes through House's interferences

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It didn't take long to figure out that "here and now" was a strange place to be. It rained, it got sunny, it got humid, it got cold and then it rained again- rained a rain that became snow. For days it had been coming down like crazy. Getting to work was a hassle on roads filled with angry drivers and constant crashing. You'd think the snowbirds leaving the state would at least put chains on their tires to make it out, but no, these late ones seemed to be as dumb as they were late.

She'd never noticed that winter was this cold, or that the snow was so pleasant to see drop. No, she'd noticed- for it felt familiar. It must have been when she was still a child, when Nana was still around. Amber felt pains that she hadn't felt before, pains to at least remember more clearly her early childhood. It was interesting…but she didn't want it. Well, it wasn't entirely bad- so maybe that was a lie. Wilson was in her present. She didn't want to lead him on, but she still didn't even know how she felt yet. She'd had to figure it out. In a sick way, she wanted to thank House. It seemed like she had been flying, and was suddenly slapped down and reminded of what she was. And what she was now, what Wilson's girlfriend. And her own will was suddenly returning to her. It was strange to remember herself, to live in a world where her own thoughts and opinions were worth considering. It was strange to live in a world where all aspects of her personality were with her.

The ER had been as busy as ever, and it wasn't too boring. Usually, it was your usual 65-year-old man complaining of acid reflux and impotence. And they were still around, but rarely. Most of them had evacuated to their summer home in Florida, or Hawaii, or where ever they had conjugated to. Mostly it was teens now, trying to kill themselves. Amber had never once thought of the many ways a person could kill themselves; some one had actually attempted to drink a lighter full of fluid. In addition, car wrecks brought in a wide-array of different patients, as did hypothermia and wives tales.

"Amber," Wilson tapped her on the shoulder. It hadn't been any thing new for the passed month or so, since he officially asked her out. And she officially…just nodded. "House..-"

"Found out we've been dating?" she turned quickly, clipboard in hand. "Don't worry about it, I'm sure both of us can handle him."

"How'd you know I was going to say that?" he asked, following her into one of the ER exam rooms.

"You really want me to explain?" she asked, taking a stethoscope and listening to the patient's heart.

"No. I'll talk to you later."

"Love you,"

"Love you. See you later."

She never thought she'd tell some one she loved them and mean it whole-heartedly, though she often wondered what kind of love it was.

---------------------------------------------

House had already begun his antics by the following night. He stalked them to dinner, where Wilson openly stated he was going to fire his secretary. Amber, on the other hand, wasn't nearly as bothered.

"Sorry," Wilson kept saying on the way home; "I don't honestly know what's wrong with him."

Finally, the hundredth time, she just smiled, giggled, and said; "Its okay, he didn't bother me."

He hesitated before speaking again. "You sure?"

"Yeah." She replied, leaning against the window, leaning over to smile softly at him again. "I actually thought it was kind of funny, how he follows you around like a lost little puppy."

"A puppy. Now there's an interesting way to describe House."

---------------------------------------------

It was her day off when House decided to show up again. He just walked into the room, where she'd been looking in the mirror- wondering why she'd put the sweatshirt on, but not wanting to take it off. It was some how comforting, like a security blanket.

"What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing with Wilson?"

She smiled to herself, and he took himself a seat at the kitchen table. Amber turned and took the seat across from him. Like a dog protecting its master, she thought.

"Why are you so concerned? Don't think Wilson's big enough to make the right decisions?"

"You're using him," he replied; "to stay in my orbit, so I'll finally realize I was wrong and hire you back."

"Oh, you know already?" she smirked; as much as every one kept saying House was "impossible", he was quite easy to her. "I can't wait, its gonna be awesome."

"No, it's not, and you know it's not, because you know that even if I realized I was wrong I'd be too stubborn to admit it." And, at that, he repeated his initial question; "Why are you with him?"

"Didn't you just answer that question for yourself? Now, you have to answer my question."

"Wilson has a pattern."

"And I'm outside of his usual dating horizon. That's not cause for concern, its cause for celebration."

"People don't change."

"Why can't you just be happy for the person you say is your best friend?" she asked, more innocently than she'd intended. "If he's happy, you should be happy for him."

"You don't have the room to tell me what I should and shouldn't do."

"Since you're so good at puzzles, House, why don't you try to figure it out? Am I in this for you…or am I in this for him?"

There was hesitation, and she almost thought he would answer, until he replied. "Take the sweatshirt off," he grunted, preparing to leave. "Pit stains don't become you."

---------------------------------------------

The next afternoon, he called for her in his office.

"Solve this case," he said, motioning for the board; "and I'll hire you."

"Does this have a 'dump Wilson' clause attached?"

"Of course. Standard contract, all employees sign."

"Why are you concerned?" she asked, sliding into a seat.

"I'm not." He responded defiantly;. "I'm just curious."

Amber placed her hands on the table, half smiling and half smirking. "Couldn't decipher the puzzle, House?"

"Just answer my damn question."

"All my life," she began, motioning her hands back and forth; "I thought I had to choose between love and respect. And I chose respect. When I'm with Wilson, I get both."

House was flabbergasted. She stood, turned, and began to leave, making sure to add; "It could be DIC."

"Normal platelet count rules out DIC. Nice try, though."

Yeah, she thought to herself as she left the office; he knew he'd made the mistake. And it didn't matter to her. That was the part that was freeing.

---------------------------------------------

Amber drove home to see that Wilson was already there, getting Christmas post cards ready to send to his family.

"I see you started already," she said, hanging her coat and scarf on the rack installed in the kitchen wall.

"I have a pretty big family."

She offered him a slight smile.

"I bought plenty, if you wanna send some to your family."

"Naw." She replied, sitting down.

"You sure?"

"It's been over…four or so years since I've spoken with either one of them."

He didn't mention it after that. But, she did noticed, he had addressed the cards from "W."

"Hey," she grinned, amused. "A&W."

He looked up at her, utterly confused. "What? The root beer?"

"And cream soda." She pointed to him, where it said; "W" on his letters. "That's kind of funny. I address my letters with an A, and you address yours with a W."

"A&W." he chuckled softly. "First, House is a puppy, next, you and I are root beer and cream soda."


	17. Good Enough

It was 9:00pm before she even got out of the hospital. So much for going grocery shopping on Thursday. Sighing, she drove to the motel. As nice as it was outside during spring, the nights were getting disgustingly humid. She'd had to straighten her hair twice during breaks, because it was frizzing so miserably.

"Sorry," she sighed, noticing that James was still up. "there was an emergency at 6:30 and the person who was supposed to come cover my shift called in sick."

"I'm not mad." he replied calmly, shifting over on the couch. "I take it you didn't go shopping."

"No, I just got out." She replied, grabbing a bottle of Miller Genuine Draft, and taking a seat next to Wilson. Even though she couldn't help it, she felt a little bad; it was his night off, and they'd said they'd spend it together. "What's on TV?"

Before he could answer, the phone rang. Frustrated, she sighed and stood up, muttering "I'll get it." With out looking at the caller ID, she answered it; "Hello, this is Amber and James. Who is phoning, please?"

"Amber? That you?"

She felt a click in her body as fury raised her fist to the countertop, bending her midsection over the tiled object. "How did you get this number?"

"It's the only listing for a Volakis in Jersey."

"What do you want, mom?"

"I wondered what you were planning to do for Easter. You are off, right?"

Silence. 30 seconds of pure silence.

"Hello, Amber? Every thing okay over there?"

"Yeah," she lied, trying not let it show through that she was gritting her teeth; "I was looking for my calendar. I can't find it."

"Well, if you need to call me back, you can."

"No. Not needed. I found it. I'm not off."

"Oh. I was going to try to come down and visit you."

"Why?"

"Because I want to see you."

"Where's Nicholas?"

Her mom was silent.

"Where's Nicholas?" she repeated with more intensity.

"He's in jail. He gets out the week after Easter."

So she was back-up. Angry, frustrated and- maybe even a little hurt- she said her goodbye and hung up. Amber was always the back-up entertainment to her mom, always the "next." Always taken for granted. It was that realization that came again, pouring tons of salt on a deep, open wound. The realization that her mother never loved her, never would love her, never wanted to. She shouldn't care, she was 27, she was an adult…she clenched her fist tighter.

"Hey, you okay?" Wilson asked her, turning to see her.

"Why don't you tell me?" she asked, before she even knew what was leaving her mouth.

"Huh?"

She suddenly felt so full of fury, of fear, of confusion, of frustration, of sadness, that it just didn't even matter any more. She didn't feel like herself, she felt like she wasn't even there, but she must have been. "I said," she snapped, in a childish tone; "why don't you tell me?! You sit here all the time! You see me all the time! How can you not know?!"

"Who was on the phone?" Wilson was slightly frantic and confused; "What did they say?!"

"It was my mom," she managed, feeling like she'd taken control back over her emotions. "She wanted to know if I was free for Easter…I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Maybe you should rest."

And her emotions suspended her mind, once again. "So you're blaming me?! You're telling me it's all my fault, that I'm just tired- or crabby- and every thing else is in my mind?!"

"I never said that."

"I don't see things that aren't there!" she continued. "You're crazy! You're the crazy one, crazy and stupid!!!" she stopped herself, making herself apologize before she began to cry. She suddenly didn't feel the tears physically, but she could feel that it was happening…some how. "Or maybe you just don't care. I'm sorry, what's going on?" she grabbed her head, a headache raged, she felt a little feverish. "I'm just sick. I'm sorry, maybe I should go lay down." She took deep breaths, trying to calm down.

"That's gotta be one hell of a fever…" he responded, flabbergasted, concerned, and confused as he walked into the room. He felt her head with his wrist. "You're warm, but not that warm. What's the matter?"

"Don't touch me!" she growled, abruptly- even to herself. Wilson jerked his hand back. "Why are you doing that? Do you really think it makes you look like you care?!" she could vaguely feel herself crying. "I'm not stupid! You can see it, you're not blind! Even a blind person could see it!"

"Could see what?" he backed away slightly. This he had never seen in his life. His heart ached for a solution, he hurt to see her this way, but what could he do? Seeing the pain in his eyes…

"I'm sorry," she forced her mouth to say, crying harder. "I'm sorry," she wrapped her arms around him. "You really can't see it?" she cried into him, holding him, though he was afraid to touch her. "Then it must be my fault…I'm sorry…I'm sorry…"

"Amber," he began, seriously; "What are you sorry for?"

She held him tighter.

"Come on, what is this about?"

"I don't want you to think I'm lying." She cried, struggling to speak coherently.

"Why would I think that?"

"Because it's stupid. This whole thing is stupid." She muttered incoherently for a while, trying to calm down, before another blast of tears came. This time, Wilson didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her.

"Nothing is stupid. If it matters to you, it matters."

"To who?" she cried, shoulders heaving.

"Would it matter to you if it mattered to me?"

"Why would it matter to you?"

"Because I care about you."

She pulled away, looking him straight in the face. "Every one says that." She told him, more calmly than she'd expected. "Every one says that, but nobody means it. If you cared, you could see. You would know."

"I can't see it. But I want to."

"Why?"

"Because, I love you."

She stopped. He reached his arms out, and grabbed her shoulders gently.

"I want you to tell me. I promise you, I won't think it's stupid, and I'll believe you 100%."

"And if you don't?"

He put his arms around her. "Then you can decide what to do with me."

He felt her shoulders heave, and she began to cry again.

"My mom said she doesn't love me," she said, clutching him. "I heard her say it. Why…what did I do?"

Wilson's heart broke. "It's not your fault." He told her gently. "I don't know why…but I do know that your mother has missed out on the most beautiful, wonderful woman in the world."

She clutched him tightly for a minute, calming down. Then her head raised, and she realized she felt relieved. She had never realized that was bothering her. "Wilson…" she squealed, her voice raspy from screaming she barely remembered having done. "I'm sorry…I don't know…I…just…I'm sorry…I don't understand what..-"

"It's fine. I'm sorry, no one ever bothered to show you that you're lovable. I'm sorry you can't trust people who really do care. I'm sorry you had to know about your mother's issue. And I'm sorry it's hurt you so badly for so long."

There was a pause where she clutched onto him. Finally, trying to regain use of her nose, she gently moved away. "I need an icepack…could you…"

He grabbed one and handed it to her, placing it on her head with a couple of Benadryl and a glass of water.

"Too bad you believed it." She told him.

"Why?"

"Because, I was already thinking about what to do with you." She smirked, winking seductively, then giggled slightly to show she was teasing.

--------------------------------------------------------------

The next day, "Thirteen" cornered her in the ER.

"What's going on?" she insisted seriously.

"Currently, I'm trying to get some anti-venom for the guy who just came in here with a snake bite."

"Why were you crying last night?"

"That's none of your business." she responded, hiding her shock as she finally found and picked up the anti-venom.

"Look at me,"

Amber turned and looked directly at her. "Why are you even here?"

"House doesn't have a patient, and the ER is always open." she stopped there. "He didn't do any thing…?"

"Don'tcha think that, if he did, his ass and mine would be in court?" she smirked, chuckling lightly; "You're such a lesbian."

"That's…none of your concern."

"Not of my concern, but it is of my interest." She pulled the skin around, looking for a safe place to insert the needle. "So I'd suggest leaving me alone."

"They know already."

"Coming out of the closet? Good for you." She turned her attention to the patient; "Sorry, this isn't my intern. It's going to hurt, but it's the only way to keep the venom from killing you. You're lucky you got here so fast." The guy let out a guttural groan as she injected the fluid into him, prompting "Thirteen" to leave.

---------------------------------------------------------

Summer was fast approaching. Wilson had agreed to go with her to buy what they'd need over the summer, a swimsuit, for one. She hadn't been to the beach in years, since she was a high-schooler, and doubted she could fit into the suit she'd had then.

"What kind are you looking for?"

"I don't know…I don't want a bikini…"

Wilson looked around, finding a cherry red swimsuit with thin, white lines down either side.

She giggled. "I think the chest on that one is a little…"

He looked down at it, and she laughed at him again as he seemed to blush. "O-oh…" he blinked, seeing that the bust was clearly too small.

They kept looking around, naturally, until Amber found her exact match- a red tankini, with a small bit of ruffles on the bottom. She tried it on in the fitting room, and decided it would be perfect; red had always been her color.

Wilson got a pair of trunks, although he wasn't near as picky. Navy blue would suit him just fine. And, of course, the towels came next. Amber took down an aisle, and Wilson went down the next- to see if there were any other's there. In silence, she walked over to a blue Cinderella towel. She wanted it, but really- what would people think of a grown, adult woman walking around with a Disney Princess towel? It would certainly be strange. She sighed and stepped away from it, looking for a different one.

"They didn't have any down the other aisle…"

He startled her, causing her to jump. And neither of them could help it. It was funny.

"Did you hit the ceiling?"

"Don't you see the broken light up there?" actually, there was a broken light, though it had nothing to do with her. Wilson looked up to see it.

"I see! Is the light okay?"

"It needs some minor repairing, but aside from that, every thing should be fine." she told him, grabbing the sunny orange towel with black and yellow stripes. They didn't have and solid colored towels, but this one wouldn't look quite so bizarre. He grabbed a brown Root Beer towel that Amber hadn't noticed before. And she laughed.

"Should I get two?"

"If you can."

He nodded and grabbed another, piling all the towels into the cart. And Wilson walked with his hand behind his back all the way to the check out line, where he asked Amber to go pull up the car so they could put every thing in it.

---------------------------------------------------------

A couple days later, they went to the beach. It was four in the afternoon, but Wilson wanted to go, and Amber didn't mind. It was less bright and sunny than it would have been, but she still asked him to help her get the sun block on.

"I'll fry in ten seconds," she told him, which he didn't doubt- considering her complexion. She helped him get it on, too- which he needed a lot more, considering that he didn't have any sort of top on. "Do you have the towels, or should I go back to the car and get them?"

"I got 'em." He said, grabbing the paper bag he hadn't let out of his sight. His arm dove in, and out came a baby blue towel with Cinderella on it.

_Under your spell again…_

_I can't say no to you…_

_Crave my heart,_

_And it's bleeding in your hand…_

_I can't say "No" to you…_

"You…?"

"I saw you when I first came down the aisle…and I thought…that a person should at least be able to get the towel that they want in life."

She couldn't help but smile.

_Shouldn't let you torture me so sweetly,_

_Now I can't let go of this dream_

_I can't breathe,_

_But I feel good enough…_

_I feel good enough…._

_For you…._

She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him closely. It felt as though she couldn't get close enough to him. It was the familiar feeling, she realized, of being comfortable. Of being 'okay.' The same feeling she had as a child, when she was with her Nana, of not rushing to be the best, of just…being. And "just being" was fine. It was bliss, she thought. Maybe even ecstasy…

_Drink up sweet decadence…_

_I can't say "No" to you._

_And I've completely lost myself,_

_And I don't mind…_

_I can't say "No" to you…_

"You wanna go for a swim?" he asked her finally, drawing away, but holding her hand. Holding hands, on the beach; it was cliché, but it could be worse. It could be sunset.

"Of course." she told him, unbothered. So what if it was cliché? "Hey," she began, leaning into him; "I'll race you!"

_Shouldn't let you conquer me completely,_

_Now I can't let go of this dream_

_Can't believe that I feel good enough…_

_I feel good enough…_

_It's been such a long time comin',_

_But I feel good…_

She beat him, but only because she took a head start. The water felt good against skin that tingled from the heat of the sun. Amber didn't try to keep herself from falling in, it was fine. It was absolutely fine. She couldn't believe it; the entire world could be caving in around her, and she wouldn't mind. It was crazy, she thought. She hadn't felt this way in years. Wanting to make full use of whatever insanity she was caught up in, she stood, and began to splash her boyfriend- who splashed back, causing her to giggle.

_And I'm still waiting for the rain_

_To fall…._

_Pour real life down on me…_

'_Cause I can't hold on…_

_To any thing this _

_Good enough…._

_Am I good enough,_

_For you to love me, too? _

The water battle raged- until she felt some thing grab her hand.

"You wanna go for a walk?"

She smiled back at him, and took steps to get out of the water. "Sure,"

He held her hand, and walked with her down the shoreline, the foamy sea splattering up to their ankles. The sunset began, and Amber leaned her head into his shoulder, breathing deeply.

"I love you," she whispered gently, clutching his hand. He used his other hand to stroke her well-salted hair.

"I love you, too."

_So take care what you ask of me…_

'_Cause I can't say "No." _


	18. The Bus, The World

Summer was pleasant. Amber couldn't remember having enjoyed it before; it was just another opportunity to get sunburned and pay a ridiculous air conditioning bill. But she had actually managed to enjoy this one, and escaped with only three mild sunburns, which was good. Fall came far too soon, and in August, she found herself feeling a little…well, ill. It was the month for that, of course, and she soon found herself at the walk-in.

"Okay, let's see, Amber Volakis?"

"Yes."

"What kind of symptoms have you been having?"

"I think I have the flu," she told him, seriously; "I've been having headaches, a runny nose, a cough, a sore throat…"

"Any diarrhea?"

"Not really."

"Bloody stool?"

"No." to which, she continued, slightly offended; "I've also been sweating, and I've had a low-grade fever for the last couple of days."

"Sounds like classic flu." he said, pulling out his prescription pad. "I can just write you a prescription for Symmetrel…" he said, scribbling sloppily on the page.

"Thank you," she faked a smile, taking the prescription and checking out.

-----------------------------------------------

It was way too early to be awake the next morning when she heard a fumbling that startled her from an all-too-pleasant. She flung herself up out of the bed, turning on the light.

"James?!" she called nervously.

"I'm…alive." he squeaked, from where she determined was the bathroom. She literally jumped out of the bed and made her way over to him.

"What happened?" she asked, calmer than she expected to sound.

"I was trying to get into the bathroom and I fell over the step in."

Amber looked around. The "step" into the bathroom was, at its full height, half an inch. Even in the dark, it would be nearly impossible to fall over, especially for some one as well-balanced as Wilson.

"You were limping, weren't you?" she asked, offering him a sad smile. She'd been on him about that lately- why not just admit it? "Here," she leant down, helping him up.

"Y-yeah, I guess." he mumbled, allowing her help. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." she replied, kissing his lips. "I'll get us a new mattress tomorrow."

"But…you just paid good money for this one…"

"Hmmm….money, or walking?" she teased. "I'm going back to bed, I'll leave the light on. Turn it off when you get done."

-----------------------------------------------

The next day- true to her word- she took him to Mattress World during her break. It was his day off, so he wouldn't have to leave too soon.

They tried out mattresses for a while, discussing them. Amber was comfortable on just about any thing, an advantage developed while sleeping on many peoples' beds. Just before she had to get back to work, she managed to talk the salesman down to a reasonable price. Luckily, Wilson was used to her antics, and knew to go along with them.

"You can get any one you want," she told him, kissing him gently. "Just as long as I get to help you break it in."

"Do I have to leave, too? To go to my interview?"

She giggled at him. "It's not for another two hours."

-----------------------------------------------

She got home right at 6:00pm. Wilson had cooked dinner, but that wasn't exactly what she was interested in. She ate, dropping hints with her eyes; he knew her looks by now, and the way he was playing dumb both made her giggle and drove her insane. Dinner finished, they each had a small glass of wine, and damnit, she wanted to break that bed in! The blonde pushed her boyfriend up against the wall and kissed him passionately, letting him guide them both into the bedroom.

He worked fast, and he worked well. Those were two of her favorite things about him. One of her least favorite things?

_Clunk. _

She felt her heart break, and she stopped, laying there- breathing heavily as she brought her thoughts back to earth.

"What is this?" she asked, eyes shifting around.

"It's the firm mattress, isn't that the one you—"

"I wanted. But I told you, you could pick…" her heart fell cold. "Why do you always do that?"

"Do what, take care of you?"

"Have you not met me?" she asked, angry, frustrated, and hurt- more than any thing. "I can take care of myself; I need you to take care of you." It wasn't offensive from him, but it hurt. It hurt like hell. Didn't he love her? Didn't he _trust _her?! "That's what you did with all your ex-wives. You gave and gave and gave…and ended up resenting them. Don't you _dare _do that to me!" She reached over to the end table, desires forgotten, trying not to cry as she placed her earrings back in. "I have to go," she sighed, standing up. And, at that, she left the room, knowing that he was probably confused as hell.

-----------------------------------------------

He went back the next afternoon. House had stalked him there, she knew, but wasn't going to make a big deal of it unless there was need for blackmail. He had been particularly unbearable lately, telling Wilson "what she really meant" and such. He obviously knew it was dead-wrong, he wasn't the type to just say things like that to "be a good friend." He should know little things like that wouldn't be enough to break them up. Or perhaps the Amber he "knew" was completely different from Wilson's girlfriend. But one thing he did know was that it would upset her. That was why she'd decided that she wasn't going to let him have the satisfaction of getting to her.

"Hey, honey," she grinned as he got home early in the evening; "did you pick out the new bed?"

"Yeah," was he blushing?! She smiled at him teasingly; "It's…a water bed. I hope that's okay with you…"

"Of course, I told you, you could get any bed you wanted. If I had a problem with water beds, I would have said 'except waterbeds, they drive me crazy'. And if I didn't, it'd be my own damn fault."

Some employees came in and set it up in the bedroom. Amber used her recent pay-check to pay them off when they were done, and sent them on their way. Wilson's pager went off, and he sighed, looking more distraught than he probably even realized.

"I have to go to work," he sighed; "I'm on-call until 9."

"There'll be plenty of time, don't worry." she replied, purring as she leaned in to kiss him. "I'll see you later."

"See you."

-----------------------------------------------

It wasn't much later than 9 when he got home that night. Since he seemed tired, Amber was willing to just forget it, but just as she was coming back to the kitchen table he pressed her against the wall and claimed her mouth with his own. They didn't move for a moment, and she was so shocked by it she wouldn't have tried.

"Are you," she breathed as he claimed her mouth again, turning them around so that she was the dominating partner; "sure," he unbuttoned the bottom button of her blouse; "you want to now?"

He had to break another kiss to answer. "Of course I do." He kissed her again, then abruptly stopped as they reached the bed. "Why? Don't you want to?"

The bed rocked them as he pinned her against it, taking her by surprise yet again. "I do…I just thought you were tired."

Somehow, he managed not to rip her shirt as he tore open the top buttons, revealing her bra. "Black again?"

"They were the only ones that matched."

For hours, the waterbed moved them, rocking them in deeper, closer. It crashed them in and waved them out, pulling away like the tides. With Wilson, there was nothing carnal about it. Every thing she did felt perfectly…natural. It felt naturally to be touched, to be loved, to be caressed by what ever he chose to use. It was different from any other time, with any other person.

When they didn't have any energy left, they both laid there, quietly. The bed still rocked, waving when ever one would shift slightly. As their breath returned to them, Wilson grabbed Amber's hand, and asked her;

"If you don't need me to take care of you, then what is it you want from me?"

She opened her eyes and smiled lazily, clutching his hand in return. "I just want you to be with me, James." she told him, her voice softened by the night. "I want you to be with me, and love me."

"But I take care of you because I love you."

"No. You take care of people because that's how they like you." she told him, scooting closer to him. "But I don't like you, I love you. Love isn't about needing to be with some one, it's about wanting them to be a part of your life- for the rest of your life. I would love you even if you committed murder, not because I want you to kill people, but because what you do is separate from you, and I love _you._" there was a long pause, and she looked up at him, gazing seriously into his eyes. "Do you love _me?_"

He took a moment to think about it, shocked by not only her question but by what she'd said before hand. Shocked, and very much confused.

"What is it you love about me?"

"I…" he stammered and stuttered, knowing full well he looked like an idiot, before he finally said; "I don't know. I just love you. I just want to be with you."

Amber smiled and cuddled into him. "That's what the answer is supposed to be."

-----------------------------------------------

Three days passed that Amber and Wilson saw very little of each other outside of the hospital. They weren't rare days in the least, and each had realized they would have to accept it- especially with Amber and the crazy hours of the E.R. She had two nightshifts in a row, and they would have made her work a double shift if not for Karla, a new girl. Amber heaved a sigh of relief; Wilson would be on call until 9, but she would be working 12:00-9:00 the next day, so there was no need to be up early. Having time, she laid out on the new soft mattress (the waterbed hadn't exactly worked out) and planned to just rest, but ended up falling asleep. And while she slept, she dreamed.

She dreamt of her father, and of Nicholas. In her dream, her father was homeless and being eaten alive by maggots. She could see him yelling at Nicholas, for reasons she didn't know. She could hear their voices, but she could not understand their words. "What's going on here?!" she asked, but her voice was hardly louder than a whisper. They fought a little longer, until she saw her father slap her father, and a syringe fell from his hand. Both of them were silenced then, and she could see them crying. "What's going on?!" she demanded again, but when she looked, they were gone. And all that was there was a syringe. She picked it up, and her dream was gone as quickly as it had come.

When she awoke, she felt ill. Amber clutched her stomach and rolled, feeling herself begin to retch. She flung herself up out of bed and rushed to the bathroom, continuing to vomit harder than she remembered having done so in her life. Her dream forgotten, she finally finished and showered, taking special care to blow-dry and straighten her hair. When she emerged, it was 8:30. It had been 6:00 when she laid down. To be sure she hadn't missed any calls, she checked the caller ID on the house phone. Nothing from Wilson. She was about to set it down when it rang from a number she didn't recognize. She figured it was one of Wilson's friends, and answered it- only to find out she was all too right.

"Hello,--"

"Where's Wilson?!" snapped an angry, drunken voice.

"He's on call." she growled.

"I need him to come pick me up."

"Tell me where you are." She sighed. Wilson had been at work since 7:00 that morning; he didn't need to be running to a bar to pick up his drunk friend right after that. When it all came down to it, maybe she could be a bit of a hypocrite.

"Sherry's," he mumbled. She heard a snap from the bartender, and he was gone. She sighed, rubbing her still aching stomach, and walked out to go pick up her boyfriend's best friend.

-----------------------------------------------

He made her pay the tab. What a gentleman. She grabbed his cane and followed him onto the bus he had been using to try to avoid her; Wilson would bring her back tomorrow to pick up the car.

"You forgot some thing," she told him, handing him the object.

For a while, she lectured him. And then, realizing he wasn't really paying attention, she stopped- but continued to watch him intently.

"Stop staring at me," he told her irritably.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight."

That was the end of that discussion. House was too tired, and too drunk, to try to say some thing back. Comebacks rushed through his mind, but he didn't feel like saying them- for once. Then, he turned to look at her. A blinding white light came towards them. He blinked, and looked again, flabbergasted.

"What?" she smirked.

"I'd get do---"

He didn't get a chance to finish before they were pummeled. Amber's head thrusted back gracefully. The shelter that they had once been transported in now moved, jerked, and jetted around dangerously. Metal scraped noisily against the ground, causing sparks to fly. Shards of glass flew directly into the back of Amber's head and she fell against a pole, pulling, holding on for any thing she could hold on to. Blood covered her hands, and she didn't know who's it was, but the fluid caused her to lose her grip. She flew back, just as she saw a cane jerk up into the atmosphere and crack the light.

The world became the bus. And this world was a jetting, shrieking, hell-like world in which the atmosphere was merely the top of the bus, unknown objects made the ground, the moans, squeals and panics of people became their blood, and all around the glass became their source of oxygen.

-----------------------------------------------

There was nothing for a long time. She couldn't focus. Every thing seemed to have stopped, but it couldn't be believed that it was over. Not just yet. The cane had penetrated her leg, from one side to the other, causing a sharp, numbing pain to cover it. She whimpered, squealed and pain and began to cry. Blood was every where to be seen; on shards of glass lying strewn about the ground, on the poles, on the seats, on the people…her blood was unmistakable from any one else's, but that she was covered in the bodily fluid, that she knew. The world became the world again, and the bus was just the bus, and they were the unlucky few who were honest.

"House," she groaned painfully as he crept slowly towards her, his body shaking, particularly his hands. She couldn't blame him.

"Hush," he snapped, grabbing her scarf. He pulled it and tied it around her leg, causing it to become stained with blood. The pressure relieved a trivial amount of pain, and she couldn't care less at that point for the $50 she had spent on it.

"I'm cold,"

He looked at her seriously. He knew what she meant. She was fading. "Stay with me."

But she couldn't. "Nowhere" enveloped her again.

She awoke again a short while later and looked over, eyes unable to see. Lights and sounds flashed in front of her eyes, the cops had arrived, but how soon? And to what expense had they been delayed? "House," she called out, arm rolling over; "Tell Wilson…tell Wilson…" but House wasn't there, and she was too tired to finish. She heard a woman call out to her and ask who she was, but she couldn't answer. She was in "Nowhere" again, a dark, empty space with no feeling.


	19. The Other Side Of The Glass

A/N: This takes place AFTER she has been transferred to PPTH. J

------------------------------------------------

The daylight had been reduced to a sliver of glowing gray beneath the blinds of the window. Eyes lazily blinked against the recliner chair, arm outstretched. Nothing good was on TV. Nikolai sighed deeply, pulling his Pink Russian to his face and taking a drink. The house reeked of some spice or another Tina had used to cook with. It didn't matter to him any more. She was cleaning up, as usual. And, as usual for his rare nights off, she was probably preparing herself a long list of complaints. Some thing else that just didn't matter to him any more. The whole time, he'd been there. He'd watched Amber grow, and he'd watched Nicholas go. And he'd seen them go in two completely different directions. Nicholas, again, had been arrested and put in jail for possession of illegal drugs, yet it was Amber his heart ached guiltily over. Nikolai took another drink. He was almost out of his glass, almost out of his vodka. Amber was his first child. He'd never been a father, nor had he had a father. His mother had been there, but it was mainly a maid who'd raised him. Needless to say, he hadn't known what to know. He hadn't known what was normal. But he knew it was weird when Tina treated Nicholas so differently, and yet he had said nothing.

Victoria was right when she told him he was a chicken shit.

The phone rang. He set down his glass and answered it, but the other person beat him to the 'Hello.'

"Hello, is this the… Vo…V…Vol-a-kis residence?"

"Who is this?"

"Sir, this is the Princeton Plainsborough Teaching Hospital of New Jersey. There was a horrible bus crash," his breath caught; "a young lady by the name of Amber Volakis was badly injured. She's in critical condition."

"Amber Volakis…" he breathed; "is she expected to make it?"

"I…I'm sorry to say, we don't know, sir. Thing's aren't looking particularly good, but there's always a chance."

"I'll be on my way. Thank you."

Nikolai stood up. It was time to face his failure. It was time to own up to it, to apologize for it. It was time to see his daughter again. He shuffled quickly into the kitchen.

"Tina,"

"Yes?" she responded irritably. She always responded irritably.

"Amber was in a crash," he breathed, trying to soothe himself. "A terrible bus crash. She's in critical condition. We have to go."

"I can't," she replied. "I have to wait in case Nicholas calls."

"I don't understand," he told her, not concealing his anger. "Nicholas chose a life of drugs and jail, yet you wait by the phone for him to call every minute of every day that you're home. Amber chose to become a doctor, got into a crash, and you're so concerned he's going to call you that you're not going to come see her?!"

"He's my son, I can't just---"

"She's your daughter!" he fumed. "You would rather let her die alone, with out reconciliation, than miss a call from some one who asked for a life of problems?!"

"He's been trying to change. And what does she need reconciliation for, any ways?"

"I don't know, Tina. It was never obvious to you that she hated you? Her anger was never evident to you? She knew, okay?! It wasn't a big secret that you didn't love your own damn daughter! And then, you---"

"Stop this!" she demanded. "You stop this right now, and listen to me--!"

"No!" Nikolai shouted, for the first time in his life, putting his hands on a woman; he grabbed her shoulders and looked into her eyes. "You," his voice softened slightly; "listen to me. Then, you paraded around the house, spoiling little Nicholas so badly that look where he ended up?! It hurt her, Christina Ann! It hurt her every day of her life to see you love that boy but treat her with apathy. And I didn't do any thing to try to help." he let go of her and pulled away.

"Are you through?" she asked, trying not to cry.

"You've spent the last 17 years acting as though we only have one child. I don't know about you, Christina, but I'm done being guilty over the one you neglected."

"I never—" but he left before she could finish. She followed him outside, raging, yelling, and screaming, but it didn't phase him. He merely got into his car, rolled up the windows and left.

------------------------------------------------

It was about a two hour drive from where Nikolai had started. He didn't stop. He sped up, far beyond the speed limit. He didn't pay attention. For ten years, their lives had been an absolute wreck. Nicholas, suffocated by the angry atmosphere of his mother, ran away only two years after Amber went to college. He was arrested for possession after only a week. The near constant battles between he and his wife had driven him into full and complete alcoholism, which caused him to nearly lose both jobs he'd gotten; actuary by day, taxi driver by night. He said he just wanted to make some extra money, but surely Tina knew some where in her head.

Tina. She was a sore spot for him. How did such a wonderful marriage turn into a love-hate relationship?

He kept going. And then, he saw a scene. Every thing was backed up. Cops gathered around to direct traffic away from the enourmous bus on the ground. Nikolai couldn't see it at the speed he was driving at, but he fancied that he saw blood. Buckets full of it, poured onto the street. Buckets full of his daughter's life force. Could it be? Shattered glass, an impact that had left the bus in pieces…

The car ahead of him stopped. Where had the cop gone? And Nikolai braked for his life. The back of his car reared up, but he had barely slowed down by the time he hit the car in front of him. It wasn't long at all before the "Nowhere" devoured him; he wasted his final thought wondering if he would wake up.


End file.
